His Hands Became Cold, Metallic

His Hands Became Cold, Metallic

he said,
“love doesn’t have to be an anchor”,
as his hand cupped
the curve of my face

his finger tracing
the outline of my lips,
down the length of my neck,
between my breasts,
along the slope of resting thigh,
to circle one slender ankle,
once, twice, still

“here,
here is my love”, he said,
“now, let me
watch you
drown.”

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s