deepundergroundpoetry.com
Embers
Your crawling is so
lithe; you hand-and-
knee over black sheets in
lace deeply, violently red, and
the metronome of your
sway pardons the late-night June
sweat. Fiery hazel gazes
into my cold, weathered
glare and strikes like a
match against stone. Your
bitten lip coaxes the embers into
kindling. But mounting hips and
sinuous whispers are how you
play with fire.
lithe; you hand-and-
knee over black sheets in
lace deeply, violently red, and
the metronome of your
sway pardons the late-night June
sweat. Fiery hazel gazes
into my cold, weathered
glare and strikes like a
match against stone. Your
bitten lip coaxes the embers into
kindling. But mounting hips and
sinuous whispers are how you
play with fire.
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