Warm baths,
Nostalgia.
Rain slaps the window pane.
Soothing chills coursing my skin,
Rivers of water flowing between my legs,
My breast,
My neck.
I touch my surface.
Familiarity to your touch,
Trace my spine with your fingertips.
Roses and sunflowers fill the air,
Swaying hips, I grip with tips of my fingers.
Warm air wraps around my neck,
As the words slip between my lips,
Don't slow.
Waves crash in this storm.
Rocking and knocking,
Slipping and sliding.
Biting my lips to the rhythm of this dance.
Interlocking hands all awhile in the darkness.
Exhale.
YOU ARE READING
Brown Sugared Sunflowers
PoetryThese are poems that I've been writing for the past 10+ years. Writing always tapped into a deep part of me. I had to find what I liked and what made me, well me. Once I discovered myself, Ive felt free and unbothered. I am spiritual and I am woke t...
