Amidst the Treacherous

she's got an itch that I won't scratch

I'm afraid she'll bleed at me

through picked scabs, 

my patsy-paws drip red to blame

so I blink hard and plenty

can't see with this shine in my eye

my hands inhibited, rubbing peepers dry

caught under the spotlight 

her candescent eyes

my dear, I'm caught in headlights

oh, god, tell me paralysis didn't take the shine off

her candescent eyes I've taken a shine to

sweet slow burning caught my eye

it's personal, so personal, so personal

they never dim

just simmer iridescently

share a coy smile in repose

off the clock, chip the sweetest piece

but please burn me now

run me hot-blooded

lecherous amidst the treacherous

my dear, I'm caught in the headlights

(you've got me stricken with stage fright)

Reviews

[Black Cat Fever]

The power of the eyes, it can mean so much and different things to different people. The better to be caught in the eyes that are more pleasure than horror or is there horror in some pleasure? Impressive write, I think.

[Ravyne Hawke]

Wow.. this is such an awesome poem filled with great images and such a story to tell. Each stanza had me itching to read the next just as you set it up from the beginning. Your language is sensual and beautiful. I cannot wait to read more of your works!