Lust is in the AirA Poem by Molly
The air clings like a lover’s arms, Its hands grasping for mine, Desperate, desperate longing, a wanting, a need I can’t satisfy. Or is it the other way ‘round? Am I the one clinging, holding on, for dear life? Afraid to lose or sacrifice this touch? I relish in this atmospheric caress, the cold, wet touch of the air on my skin. It kisses at my temples, neck, lips, and I am powerless to resist. Perhaps my foolish longing for my dreaming to be reality imbues the wind with this passion and ardour. Perhaps I am consumed with want. The reverse is also true; the wind is the want of my suitors. I feel them reaching for me, grabbing at me, grasping. It is their touch I am feeling. And the cold is my horrible fear, my fear that not any of them is the one who will hold me. The wet temple kisses now frighten; my indecisiveness makes each embrace foreign and strange, and I’m unsure what pleases and what scares. Rushing towards the inside, clawing my way through clinging mist, I battle my way out of the love from the sky. I know not now if it’s friend or foe. © 2008 Molly |
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Added on February 8, 2008 AuthorMollyAboutI write to write. Not for you. Not even for me sometimes. Inspiration just hits me, and I'll write it down. Sometimes what I write concerns the present, people I know or things I've seen. And other t.. more..Writing
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