Feb 13, 2007 17:09
where your hand presses against your nose,
hiding the lips that part deliciously behind, I know;
and, oh,
turn those lovely glittering eyes
at me, glance sideways,
even, from their tilted corners
and brush my skin with their gaze
your chuckle longs to burst forth
to scatter its discordant beads
upon the cool marble floor.
poetry,
writing
Leave a comment
Comments 2
Reply
Reply
Leave a comment