Shower

I don't really like this poem, I'm not sure why. I think poetry as a whole has to be a certain way for me or I get frustrated with the way it hinders stories.

Soothing rain that washes off The perfume I smelt on him. A soft puff of flowers on his skin, for less than a moment. A butterfly moment. I turn my face up to the head, steam licks Off my face and rises up in plumes of white. The sticky sweet melt of two bodies Suddenly stagnated, the rank skin of algae On a freshwater lake. His eyes flickering in puzzlement. As if a fleet of tiny ants scuttled silently over my skin in a second. My throat was thick with hatred, like a glutton’s I had to escape. From him. The course of love never did run smooth, Like the heavy dribble of red down the recess of his spine. He moaned. His pretty eyes seemed surprised, Aroused by the whole idea of it. Perfection. Little flowers. Let them fall off me.

Reviews

[Antonio Valentino]

This is poetry. Very nicely done. Sure, it can be smoothed and polished up a bit, but without the essence, all the sanding and finishing won't do a thing. You have some talent poet, thank you for sharing it with us.

Antonio