i miss your mouth
how it dances on mine
when we don't kiss
( we're like movie stills,
except ) we breathe
in
and
in
and
in
until
we're ( mere lungs ) echoing
ourselves,
until
the oxygen's so
thoroughly
( well ) spent, my head begins
to spin;
i hate to hold my breath but i'm
caught on your skin
your emptied inside beckoning
me in;
i love the feeling of drowning, then. Then,
when
we're carbon-drunk enough
our lips can laugh apart
and wrap each other up
in our forearms;
laughing, because
everything tilts
and our eyes feel bright.
we're brown bags slowly emptied
filled and set alight.
















Comments
--
Perish all thought.
--
Poetry is truly boundless. It is my passion, writing to you, that is. I am the canvas.
--
my poetry, lemon
both bitter and tart
you decide the taste of my art
©iampoetry
ღ
--
Murble.
Previous PageNext Page