Your hands rain through my hair
Lip-locked, we are
a drunken mess
Burnt against the horizon of one another
Hushed, there is no conversation
Flesh upon flesh and
sweetly oblivious into breaths
of spoiled nerves.
Parting-- a disaster, a brush of my skin
eminently ivory against the miles of your
Carmelizing hue, I am haunted
as the dawn breaks through
Red sheer curtains that singe silken sheets
When you are gone the bed lies
A hopeless lacuna
doused in gasoline

09/16/2005

Posted on 09/16/2005
Copyright © 2025 Wendy Geal