pullingA Poem by Abigail Clairethe grace in falling
there's an echo to the words in your mouth as you spit them into the
palm of my hand they bounce and slip through my fingers slick and hot from the urgent press of tongues trapped tying broken ribbons and threading needles infinitely breaking as we continually stitch rips coming apart at our seams as they pop everytime we twist grope gasp and shout praying thread is the only thing snapping between that jungle-dazed look we share matted with heat and wild perfume clinging to skin damp pressed and steamed into skin patterned with dark swirls of hair plastered to my face and stuck to your chest that peels away as I raise my head to level green eyed glassy stares turned squint as the moon glints steel-hard and silver against the angle of your eyes and floods you luminescent until your skin looks hot and tight with the light. © 2012 Abigail ClaireAuthor's Note
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1 Review Added on February 25, 2012 Last Updated on February 25, 2012 AuthorAbigail ClaireCity of Subdued Excitement, WAAboutI hate writing About Me summaries. Maybe later. more..Writing
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