Stolen moments with you
entangled in your dense dark hair
above and down below, the scent of a little death
lingering content surrounding, left like a trophy
but one you cannot take away.
I want these sweet baked favours
and I want to eat them too,
but...
Every bite is laced with sleeping dust
so that then, as I drift uneasily
I see both faces, staring.
Sharp vertices of the triangle
digging in the small of the back with threat and meance
laying with either makes this bed become a place of nails
a stigmatic surrealism sequesters in the head.
The taste of ones skin becomes all the more bitter
the sweeter the other's grows.
A contest entry
- Forbidden. Love. by Shantalina.
500 points, ended June 17, 15 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
-
Wow, very beautiful and intense.
good luck in contest. Nice write.
Now I want cookies.
-
Well written,
Thank you for entering.
Adding your comment:
