Smoking Glass
wash me,
in the light of your smile
let its cascade bloody my cheeks
cleanse me,
with the love of your eyes,
smooth your gaze to hold my thighs
heal me,
with the touch of your lips,
shimmer a spectrum on my fingertips
hold me,
I’ll turn to glass
and shatter in your arms
watch,
I don’t get under your skin
Copyright © Jayne Eggins | Year Posted 2010
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