Posted in Poetry

angel on a pedestal

wonder is the color of your skin

touched lightly beneath my fingertips

softly loving my wetness

i am disappearing

in your lust-flavored fairy tales

which i believe

despite my better judgment

i know you

your kind.

and i let myself fall and

convince myself

i am yours and you are mine

and our love

smells of bees

and the stickiness 

is all the remains

when you shed your wings 

and walk away.

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Author:

Mom, cat-lover, ovo-lacto vegetarian, voracious reader, verbose writer on various subjects. Expect anything & everything & feel free to suggest a topic or ask a question.

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