5am
rousted from remnants of rest
pain paralyzing
percolating
eye strung up hoping to die
5am cry, not even know why
see, what must one even see
that they don't already know
contours of a delicate face
resound amid such elegant grace
confirming what is felt and flashed
inside the glorious mind
beauty beheld beneath edges of time
fingertips flush on the outlines of life
where bosoms rise then glide
in the warmth of a strike
from those lips to these
no vision, one ever does need
the whistle of the chariot awaits
legs wrapped hope once blind
we dig and we find
endorphins exploding, exploring
avenues not even tried
Copyright © Ts Poetry | Year Posted 2020
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