04.02.2022
00:05
sticky rose water baklava cemented to the crowns of teeth; a towel twisted and rolled embracing the strain of my leaden neck as my shoulders slump in a steaming bath coaxing the unwinding of my tightened, unyielding muscles; when he wears the black shirt and it looks good with so many o's that you could wear them as rings on all ten fingers; with so many o's that he spears every heel dragged one of them with pliant thumbs; plum bobbed orchids and their resilient buds in February's frost; mint ice cream; the unfurling of the fledgling like the broadening of a tulip's cerise gorge before it wilts; the languorous heave of a mid-slumbered chest; licking sea salt spray and sunshine anchored in the base of his summer spine; periwinkle 6:00 AM skies
YOU ARE READING
words don't come that easy.
PoetryI've tried. but i've always failed to contain these thousand words in a few sentences, maybe im bad at expressing macro feelings in the few words that I'm limited to. you might think you know me enough because it's been a long time since i first wav...
