I know your vertebrae,
the character of your flesh and freckles.
I've watched you sleep
and saw your eyes as Venus traps,
beautiful lashes
that waited to consume
the part of me
that equated to nagging/useless insects.
If I tilted my head,
they smiled at me.
Pretending we both died,
my tongue will forget
about the curl and throat.
I could shed my years like winter coats,
taunting the frost.
1 comment:
wow, this poem is pretty
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