Wet Wings

My love, You were raised with your father's ideals but by your mother's pragmatism. When talents first bud upon your hands, you clapped for joy and squished them between your palms, making room for more, but not height for growth.   My love, You spy the light on the other side with delight, for look, … Continue reading Wet Wings

Bite Deep

Bite deep to my bones and take breath to tell what taste I possess. Lick wide to gather all the touch so I can be velveteen. Then clutch me hard and desperate, with sight thrown back to fully smell my afterimage: A flash of red and solo.