Lips as tart and sweet as blackberries,
skin like a cloud.
He always said,
a smirk, wink,
"It isn't hard to find the needle
in this thicket."
And I drop off
a cliff
as he trails fingers,
licks my soul.
The whir of bodies
rushing to lubricate
movement and throats
full of rasped voices,
Mother, I'm never
coming home.
This probably sounds creepy, but there is some sexy stuff going on in this poem! I really like "And I drop off a cliff as he trails fingers, licks my soul."
ReplyDeletenot at all creepy, it's supposed to be sexy. For some reason the word list just struck that cord in me...maybe it was the Hayes? :)
ReplyDeleteI like the way you kept the theme of blackberries going when you later referenced the "thicket" it was an interesting addition.
ReplyDelete