Sunday, February 19, 2012

At first it was bare and ripe for the picking -
my chest was pulsating under your weight you
stripped my heart like an exotic dancer would: 
all eyes and no hands. 

After the initial grasp, the puff puff pass and the
smiles exchanged between our legsarmslimbs and the
time it took to be rid of the excess skin crowding us in, 
we breathed in sweet, sweet fumes of spring and said
things kept in our mouths, light like ecstasy but 
heavier than the average promise. 

But the hours it took to argue the hunger away made our
heads ache and eventually our jaws could clench no longer, 
our eyes could see no more of each other - just smoke and
rubbish clouding our way - it was lost,
whatever it was, it

was lost. 


  1. Sometimes your poems crowd in, get more claustrophobic, and become so close to me that it become difficult to breath when I'm in them. x

  2. This comment has been removed by the author.


Penny for your thoughts?