WANTON, WANTING

I press
with every single molecule
of me
forming breathless arcs of words spread
cold and curved like a diminished moon
between
my made-up mind
and
your elusive mouth.
You
softly hum
into blank air
offering worlds
seen through your eyes,
and you’ll glue
tiniest slivers
of deprived hope
onto each one.
I bend
each burning thought
making them
worthy
of your firework mind, and
You
sink
your
teeth
in
to see if my taste
is worthy
of your tongue.

1 Comment

  1. strong lines here, such as “arcs of words spread/ cold and curved like a diminished moon” and “tiniest slivers/ of deprived hope” — oh, please! so vivid! your poem made me remember how difficult it can be when one is trying to be “worthy” of one’s lover.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s