Feather light threads brushing against skin Cotton drags, traced by loamy lips swirling misty daydreams falling into space
Like honey pooling into combs Sticky thoughts, warm and hazy Spread unannounced, capturing you
My vivid amber held in an icebox, sealed shut Until the armored latch flips in the soft thud of black walnut fruit landing on grass rolling down a steep hill to stop at the crossroads of liminal space
So green, so very green.
Not Ripe. Raw
Holding stone fruit, overwhelmed soaked in scents of citronella and pine, oils lingering on fingertips
The sky consumed the sun, the moon’s pearly sheen gleams into focus hanging on the weave of the sky, beholden to none Sometimes turning vivid crimson, weighted in passion Then pulling back crumbling -- stars
Stolen kisses the way you occupy my senses, in every quiet moment hollowing out reality
Layered Fragments, Becoming Whole 