Gasping
Haunted by your gasps I call my own
The shimmer of your shirt climbs
On the mountains of bosom
I smell the fragrance in an instance
Buttons spill and your chest opens
The scarlet flesh of your torso
falls down your hips as I knead the yeast
To fine mold of Brach's melody
In a voice of chilled shrillness
That melted before me
In a spatter of viscous honey
That makes your cleavage part the sea
I entrust this after-dusk to more of your gasps.
Jajosh O.
Nov- 24-13
Brief, Unforgetabble Moment Contest
Copyright © Jajosh Ongado | Year Posted 2013
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