Olivia Chevron
To Erica (An Anagram)
The black straps down to your décolleté
feel sure, like my piano’s narrow notes.
If I left them to stroke your ivory skin
would you take charge and instead seduce me?
I’d let you stir my thoughts and coax
a gentle absinthe cloud and drink me in.
And from the corner of my copper eyes,
between honeyed words falling from your mouth,
I’ll watch the ink and pitch of what you’re wearing
ride up on each unbitten eggshell thigh,
and challenge “play me ‘til I flow and douse
a blaze to an ashen bed”, and staring
on my back I’d reach up to you, undressed,
and may taste wormwood, rising off your breast.This poem was co-written with my Dear Friend, when I got 'stuck' with the original ...
Thank you, TH, for your help :-))!Comentario del autro
Todos los derechos pertenecen a su autor. Ha sido publicado en e-Stories.org a solicitud de Olivia Chevron.
Publicado en e-Stories.org el 05.01.2007.
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