Breaking the bitter skin.
Seeds firm as nipples brushed by ice.
Three times I wind
Around my fingers as you lie there bare
The dark strands
Of your hair.
Crossposted to artspark
The queen of beads and blowing bubbles Stands in St Anne's Square sharing her shiny spheres; In her jackets and jewels of purple splendour She blows…
Cat's Dream How neatly a cat sleeps, sleeps with its paws and its posture, sleeps with its wicked claws, and with its unfeeling blood,…
The Seven Of Pentacles Under a sky the color of pea soup she is looking at her work growing away there actively, thickly like grapevines or pole…