This Girl.
I love this leaving of unconscious thought,
in rivers and rivulets, nickels and nought
I love that it flows with a liquid lead fire
and smokes unto embers of hearts in the dark.
If only real life simply tasted as such
like moments left silver and fizzy with breath,
like torment walked under the footprints and left
in cotton and wool like cocoons in the air
hanging and holding the moon handed bare
If only we singed and tattooed at the touch
and sold off our secrets for a dip in the sea,
seal-skinned and white in the alabaster salt,
to drip on discovery brought dead to a halt
If only this girl, on this paper, was me.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
