canopied in trees--
entreaties in treatises
of slick and smoove
and ah baby, i love yous
slowly creep into me
up my spine with the tingle
of father time's reminicing
ohh
you
at the nape of the neck
unprotected or fettered
by rosaries
until it connects with
the line at my head--
this is how it is
supposed to be
with you so close to
me i can smell unscented skin
i can feel you feel the breath from my nose
as it curls in the crevises between you and your clothes
and take me-
breathed between your lips
and i will
but i'll take my time too
take my time to
remind you why i'm who
you chose to be with
slow but rushed like
whisperers engrossed in
their secret
these are our hidden words
these our confidences
canopied in trees
and kept between us
interweave our fingers
and stand by me
interlock our arms
in bondage we're free.
Author notes
Written January 27th, 2005
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Unscented skin.. that's good. You don't really think of skin of unscented, and I like that. Because you get an image that is completely raw and carnal and simple, but not cheesy or unreal or smelling like mangoes or what have you. I think I will remember that.
You seem to be good at this vein of poetry. I'd like to see more from you.
Groooovy.
hannah -
I didn't expect this from you, but you definetly threw your flair into it, so it wasn't at all cliched,
interweave our fingers
and stand by me
interlock our arms
in bondage we're free.
Wow, that's beautiful, I love the story feel to it, without it necessarily being a story, more so a snapshot or just a few seconds that represent a whole,
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