Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Night Bloom

Night's friction moves slowly,
grows warm and thick -
running under your skin
and bruising your limbs
that buckle like soft leather
under my fingers
and chafing me
rough and jagged
in all the right places.
I can taste midsummer dreams on your lips,
stung and swollen with quicksilver -
full moons and crescent stars
moon shine in copper jars
and the rich, ripe blaze of nightshade
creeping over your thighs.
And under your hips,
tendrils trap my fingers,
forcing them into your crevices
where you bloom
hot and exotic

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