close your eyes
blur your edges
trace your fingertips
(over once loved skin)
count the dust motes
as they drop
from your lashes
their trail on your cheeks
hum along to the rhythm
of the desert in your bed
fall, but don't sleep.
6 days ago
close your eyes
blur your edges
trace your fingertips
(over once loved skin)
count the dust motes
as they drop
from your lashes
their trail on your cheeks
hum along to the rhythm
of the desert in your bed
fall, but don't sleep.
2 comments:
ooh, love this poem, a delicate sensuality.
lovely
Post a Comment