Post by Whimsical||MUSE; on Oct 31, 2011 0:41:16 GMT -5
Shall We Come?
I am an ice cube
held in the palm of your hands;
each breath is fog,
is love,
lust burning hot in my chest --
each stroke of your tongue
lighting me up from the inside:
will you make a lantern of me?
Shall I morph from ice cube to pumpkin?
Dare I even ask for a night of freedom,
or is this measly pumpkin enough for you?
Enough for now? For later?
I hold on tight to your heat, your heart
and I melt away,
all of that angst dissipating as
easily as shadow.
You are no longer lightning,
but the sun.
October 31, 2011
I am an ice cube
held in the palm of your hands;
each breath is fog,
is love,
lust burning hot in my chest --
each stroke of your tongue
lighting me up from the inside:
will you make a lantern of me?
Shall I morph from ice cube to pumpkin?
Dare I even ask for a night of freedom,
or is this measly pumpkin enough for you?
Enough for now? For later?
I hold on tight to your heat, your heart
and I melt away,
all of that angst dissipating as
easily as shadow.
You are no longer lightning,
but the sun.
October 31, 2011