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Sophia
by Rachelle Howeher eyes are fractured green.
looking down, i see
glints and rays
where the light was once.
she is a shadow,
a testimony of what i
never again want to taste
because she is
bitter
in ways that shaft.
(i will not take her in my mouth.
i will not swallow.
instead, i wrap my hands
around her sallow face.)
she whispers "touch me, here" and
guides my pilgrim hands.
i touchtouchtouch and simmer.
she reduces my heat and
takestakestakes
while time, my heart,
and her thighs
stand silent. 06/01/2005 Author's Note: heeeehhh...
Posted on 06/01/2005
Copyright © 2024 Rachelle Howe
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Max Bouillet on 06/01/05 at 10:31 PM I like the stakes in takestakestakes. It puts an unexpected bite in the forbidden apple. Great read that is a testament to an awesome writer that injects the passion in jadedness. |
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