Aubade

Post blush,

White spit of bedcloth, a cooling current

Staccato touch, nerve years in between, and gone.
Cold folds of soles, echo to the least footfall

In cobra light, sifting the moth breath of burned rolls,

You're appetite:

Essaying, wave by wave, the beat barbed quicks

Ripples of binary emotion, aloof, to fingertips.
Throat foamed, with a sharp, drumming your cheek 

In measured takes, flyaway feather hands slope and sink,

Slick surface quakes,
 
A sore of faucet eyebaths, spent dawn slipping  

The cold runs down so fast --

You're dripping.

Reviews

[Revolutionary]

Lovely and moving.laced with delicate words and compelling desire.

[demon_days]

Appreciate the kind words.

[Wolfwind]

A fun read! I shant even try to make sense of it all. Knowing me... i'd end up coming up with some far fetched tale about a bar of soap that went on an adventure with a mouse photographer for a day in the life and times of a bedroom bar fly.

Anyway... I just enjoyed the flow and way the words cross the tongue as I spoke it out loud.

Great Ink! Thanks for sharing!
Aaron - Wolfwind