She is a GalaxyA Poem by Nadia FigueroaThis is really a prose piece but that's not an option She is the moon on a warm, airy night. I walk
down an earth path, flooding with trees on either side, following her light to
a mysterious end. I breathe in the black sky, smelling the hints of purple that
the stars waltz in. The path opens at the mouth into a field of glistening
amethyst grass that kisses my calves and thighs. It could drown me if it
wanted. I fall to my knees and tumble over myself to stare the universe in the
face. Fireflies glitter. The wind whispers in my ear and caresses my spine with
one hand. I shudder with a smile. That is what her eyes are like. A deep magical
brown. She
is a phoenix garden, bursting through the ashes of her pain. Her soul shines
through the smoke. I feel it on my skin like a song made of silk. I can wrap
myself up in it; it’s a blanket. With eyes closed tight, I swim through it and
my own confusion. That is what it’s like when she smiles. She grins at me with
secrets sleeping behind her teeth. Her
laugh is an endless field of golden wheat. It tickles when I run my fingers
through it. It’s a validating vibration. Each only lives for the glimpse of a
moment but in that glimpse, she’s everywhere. The sound waves brush over my
neck, gentle at first, like the very tips of a feather but then sharp enough to
draw blood. I would let it bleed. That is what it’s like when she whispers. My
name drips from her mouth. Her
heartbeat smells like warm cotton when it’s calm and cool satin when it’s
exhilarated. Every boom pierces my skin like a steel dagger through her ribs
and into mine. Sometimes it rests gently on my tongue. It’s the ocean on my
cheek, coming in salty waves that crash onto my entire face, pulling my eyelids
to bed. It’s the only thing that calms me. The sea water on my lips is a
lullaby. That’s what it’s like to lay with her. She
has white flames in her palms when we touch.
She ignites me. I breathe in her smoke, blackening my lungs with it’s
kiss. I have the burn marks all over my skin. We shine bright enough to see
with eyes closed, and that’s how most of our time is spent together: eyes
closed. Fire, she is, but when she goes, she leaves me in ashes. That is what
her hands are like in mine. © 2015 Nadia Figueroa |
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Added on January 30, 2015 Last Updated on January 30, 2015 AuthorNadia FigueroaNYAboutI'm a college student from New York who loves to write and appreciates reviews, even when they're harsh. A lot of my work makes more sense if I explain that I'm a lesbian. more..Writing
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