Poetry: Aphrodite - Touch
A little something I wrote earlier, while huddling away from the cold. :)
A thousand shades of colour live
at the edges of her eyes, or in the
cracks between her shimmering,
ever-so-white, sharp teeth.
She wears skins of gold and walks,
flushed red with heat, over deserts
and oceans alike. Her touch burns:
And no-one can escape it.
A myriad of dreams hangs in the
balance, lazy as a cat on summer’s
night, when the birds call and sweat
trickles down over throats and chests.
The Moirai spin their threads at her back,
warming themselves beneath her divinity.
She asks nothing of them but that which
is hers: beauty and sensation, tangled and dark.
A thousand shades of colour live
at the edges of her eyes, or in the
cracks between her shimmering,
ever-so-white, sharp teeth.
She wears skins of gold and walks,
flushed red with heat, over deserts
and oceans alike. Her touch burns:
And no-one can escape it.
A myriad of dreams hangs in the
balance, lazy as a cat on summer’s
night, when the birds call and sweat
trickles down over throats and chests.
The Moirai spin their threads at her back,
warming themselves beneath her divinity.
She asks nothing of them but that which
is hers: beauty and sensation, tangled and dark.