SOL: Blossom

Your arm around my throat
Pinned to chest as fingernails
Scratch down your tattooed arms
Smelling the inked roses and imagining they have
A tangible scent, wandering through perpetual gardens
I want to leave marks of remembrance scattered
Upon what virgin skin you have left
Your long hair mussed and sweat
Brewing in beads on your brow
Your honeyed-tongue leaving drops down
Creamy white skin, until blues and yellows
Ripen and blossom like buds in spring
Steam rising from flesh until I can only speak
In hyperbole and rampant exclamations
Until each of my fingerprints leave five distinct
Questions on your ribs, sitting in quiet reverence
Looking at you like a prayer while
You answer me with forgiveness

3AM Thoughts // AKA “You Smell Like Daisies But You Taste Like Nightshade.”

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