pomegranate stained
and mine they
won't be touched
pink from birth
with a line down
the middle of the
bottom from the
hit of a softball
pushed out like the
beak of a duck
pouted to show
dissonance and the
faded memory of
a five year old girl
beautifully shaped
and bowed down
to greet your majesty
saved just for me
no french kiss
to evoke bliss
no slow lingering touch
of pink to brown
they're mine
and with me is
where they belong
Written: December 23rd, 2012
No comments:
Post a Comment