Spilling

Spilling


He sauntered into my imagery

slid inside the cadence of my

flow, danced to the rhythm

of my rhyme, washed

in metaphors,

seduced by

words.

~
He laid to foreplay with

my muse, stretched out

inside the contours of

my hand as I scribed

him with the ink

of my essence.

~
He was the focus of

my soliloquy, the

roll of covetous

vowels

titillating ‘cross my tongue.

And with hungry fingers, he

loosened the knot of my soul’s

gown, releasing amorous

secrets and

sweetness of my limbs;

all this and more

the

night he became

my poetry.


 

 

 

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