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The Grasping Talons of Desire
I want to cling
To you
The way vultures do
Circling in
On every movement
Until the last exhale in winter’s air
Replacing bed sheets
With blankets of
Frosted covered grass
Opening up to me
Slowly
Like a flower at the end of March
Almost as if
The exposure
Tickled your rib cage
Tell me
About the the things
Your eyes have held on to
As the canvas
Of light blue
Admixes to obsidian
Over the
Taut inexpressive
Coat your skeleton wears
I want to cling
To you
The way black widows do
Circling in
On every movement
Until the last tug against a web
Replacing bed sheets
With blankets
That feel like silk
Becoming closed off to me
Slowly
Like daisies when the sun goes down
I want to be
Indented
In your mind
Like a child
After
Their first bee sting
Cautious of my presence
But still wish
You could touch my face
Copyright ©
Ali Lynn
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