Your fingertips,
ridged like my shoulder scars,
flutter up to glance against the antique bends-
sunkissed outside the aviary windows for the first time in,
oh, what feels like years-
and those fingertips brush the miniature birdcage
(where you keep my butterflies)
that you strung around your neck
and hung from my last heartstring,
as it bounced against your bleached and buckled sternum
and uttered a solid and solitary thump,
whispering to my morning-moths
obliviously searching that hollow place that once seduced
your heart
now held in my palms,
ventricles beginning to shiver with life
when you touched the supple ridge around my lips
and found my words.
A contest entry
- BluesMans 50th Contest (Friends and Favorites Only) by BluesMan.
3500 points, ended November 1, 27 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
God help me.
Comments
1 - 7 of 7
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Oooooh this was very steamy yet slightly veiled sensual poem. Your words evoked a collage of images in my mind which I'm still pondering.
Very cool poem.
Thank you for entering my contest.
Bill
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I thought it was very intriguing
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"when you touched the supple ridge around my lips
and found my words."
This is a wonderful blend of imagery and apreciation of nature. I really enjoyed this read. ;-)
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beyond beautiful, I wouldn't change anything in this write... It captures the reader, invisioning the beauty..
I loved your ending for this write... Breath taking
illusion
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sweet
sexy... I like the detailed discription. Invoking. Intense. And yes sexy!
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Exceptional!
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Wow! Beautifully written, i wouldn't change a word. Incredible, thank you for sharing this
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