Stripped Down to the Bare Bones

Her sun glasses don't hide much
with a shirt like that.

Her hips hug her skin
in a thick, milky wonder.

Her lips have a fascination
with entanglements.

Each one of her steps
breaks a heart she'll never meet.

She gets fan mail on every platform,
but it's cute, really, how longing they are.

An impeccable notion of rhythm
unwrinkles the air as she sips her cosmopolitan.

Beneath her hat, a floppy white destiny,
her bare brow undulates to her followed eyes.

She readjusts her stance and an entire field
of fireflies blink prescriptively.

Her lack of shoes, her naked wrist,
her tiny, studded earrings seem to chatter.

And I am seated within the scent
of something cozy, ambrosia, succulent….her.

runningturtle87