deepundergroundpoetry.com
White Honey: I called it war paint_you called it a harvesting of love
a subtle query would be
to crawl between his ribs,
hold on tight,, nestle
make love on the floor of
his borderless epistolary
with wine dipped toes;
I compose the
circumference of his
irises, he draws maps
with breath
savoured
waterfalling
I musefully
"he needs me, he wants
to revel, lick and lather
in my mind and the taste
of my cunt"
I think he knows
he must know, it's me
Oh no, I think he knows
about the geography of
my body being stained
all over long before he'd
ever inhaled me
I let him, yes, I let you in
tonight my dress and I
will sleep torn and naked
touched in the raw
unctions danse and
hisses along my lips,
outlining them warm in
drunken spice
I never wanted to let go
All splattered in the antediluvian splashes of worlds. Like the very first word, enormous, eternal, The word: Bathed.-A.U
Published 29th Sep 2020
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8th Oct 2020 6:05pm
Alright, you had me at he draws maps with breath. Gorgeously haunting details that come to life before the mind's eye.
8th Oct 2020 7:15pm
