I withdrew my raw gushing heart from the locked drawer in my chest,
Placed it in your calloused hands,
And watched your eyes as you received it;
They reflected the moonful sky,
And the beating sun in mine
As a curl of my own blood (I could tell by the colour and the perfume) twisted around your chin
From the corners of your lips,
Zigzagging down your throbbing throat,
And under the collar of your worn t-shirt —
Some of the blood absorbing into the cotton over your chest,
Turning eggshell white
To wet shadow-bathed ruby —
The shade of my heart and its skin.
That’s when I knew it had found its home,
Because the rubies in my veins (your veins) had somewhere to go,
And grow,
And they knew they wanted to get there,
Rather than just pooling beneath your Adam’s apple.
~~~
❤👽
~~~
*** Gee whiz, Sweet Lips! Here we go with the blood again…. ***
*** Blood is my favourite metaphor and beverage. You might be sick of it, but I’m a vampire at heart. ***
Sick flow & deep lines….this is my fav piece of yours….blood is my fav metaphor as well….well, more than a metaphor after what I experienced….your poems are simply amazing….I connect to your words….
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Thank you very much for your kind words. I have a thing for blood so ot shows up in a lot of my poems. 😊❤
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You’re welcome TJ….I too have a thing for blood….search sometimes for blood / red ink / red diamond on my site 😉….of course, if you have time / wish to ❤️
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I will check it out. Thank you!!
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❤️
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Semblance of an erotic rush of breathlessness, exquisitely delivered as always…
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Thank you ❤❤❤
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My pleasure…
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🧛🏻♂️
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