Perfect PictureA Poem by Fegger...when it's 'perfect'....You have such small, Gentle hands. The softest of touch; As you trace invisible lines Across my temples And relaxed brow.
You stare into me, I’d left windows open Secretly hoping That you’d brave My weak defenses And seek me out.
Inside, you comfort me More than the fire I had waiting for you. You incise my soul Drawing no blood, Caressing open nerve.
Your skill of navigation Within me: I sense that you have been Here"before. Perhaps in a Time When Dreams lived, flourished.
So petite in size" Yet my own passion Enwraps you and I feel and breathe Your every selfless, Deliberate move.
My eyes, weary And guilty of your entrance. They complied when Words failed to shield From an intruder Of Need and Desire.
I shall keep you Safe, here. Should you peer out my chest You will see The palm of my hand, Guarding you in. So fitting you are. I am intoxicated and Delirious with the liquids We are now sharing. I feel our flesh grafting, As it always belonged.
I close my eyes, While you settle in Your forever home. I will sleep now, dream That you someday may be, More than a photograph. © 2011 FeggerReviews
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Added on January 28, 2011Last Updated on January 28, 2011 AuthorFeggerCTAboutPublished poet, songwriter, author and occasional humorist. "If I were lost, I wouldn’t deny it. Quite frankly, I’d embrace the fear in a dramatic and tortuous event until the child spo.. more..Writing
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