My breath
crystallizes like rime
on the silhouette of her body,
outlining
the curve of her waist
the shadow of her clavicle
each frozen, delicate, in my mind -
a memory, shimmering.
They melt, fluid... into
fine straps falling from a shoulder
gliding down to her belly,
clinging
just an instant
at the hip
before puddling to the floor at her bare feet,
a pool of green satin
she tip-toes out of
before I can wade in.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
I'm a putz. Sentimental and overly romantic.
Posted by Erin at 1:43 AM
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4 comments:
Is it warm in here, or is it just me?
Freaking great! I guess I have the answer to my question on the above post.
Do you know Shay who comments on my stuf? Fireblossom? She writes incredible poetry. And if I were single I just might have to snap her up.
Beautiful, Erin. It is. Nice job, mt friend. And dito on the love, you know. Romantic, sappy, or what was it? Alright now I;m back. Sentimental yes. And beautiful.
oh. I must mention the ending
"she tip-toes out of
before I can wade in."
layers of depth.
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