I arch at the touch of your neon hands,
On my guarded thoughts.
Beware of the way you run your fingers,
Never linger on those fragile cracks.
Each touch flints my nerves to crackle,
Kindling the doused twigs of the forest,
Rustling the dormant serpent awake,
Your fingertips burn their sigil on the path,
Carving your name in indelible ink,
They sizzle in my blood, firing desire,
Dark kohl fireworks brighten the pit,
Careful where you go here on,
Never to my throat, not ever to my heart,
I must leash the anarchic fibres soon,
Before you rile them up for a revolution,
I should not learn to savour this breach,
Lowering my shield, open-mouthed,
As you brush past the cellar of my dreams,
Releasing the wild creatures with a laugh,
Owning me with those audacious eyes,
Oh! Look at my temerity in cinders,
My belligerent femininity roared,
Not in rage but in surrender.
★★★★★★★
Huhu...what an idiot, me. 🙈🙉🙊
Flexing fingers after days. ✌🥲
YOU ARE READING
Nefelibata- The rants of a cloud-walker
PoetryA restless logophile's logbook of rants. 🗣 When words and visuals pound my head I seek my hero/fountain pen to lasso them down on a paper. 📓✍ But when life gives me wattpad, I might as well type them out to share with you all readers. 🤷♀️❤ Star...
