First Said Last Words

December 14, 2013

By:  Magnolia L.

Foreign eyes, thou art my fere companion.

I prithee, only one thing,

That thou not wait for thy slumber of permanence to embrace me.

Rather, drown me now in the hours before the final escape of breath in thy rich pleasantries;

Bountiful in its tangibility.

Merely allow a plume of deep considerate breath to slowly emanate from thy soft lips.

Side-winding, thine words shall trickle down mine sleeping ears and find home in the midst of my silent storm.

And then take mine hand, unraveling curled fingers, ever so softly, one by one;

And with adoring tenderness place upon mine palm thy pearls of possibility.

A glimpse of what’s to blossom.

For what am I, but buried hope, pushing inside a sculpture that breaths;

With eyes that are free, and lids that are shut.

Captivated in the promises of grand rapture stirring inside mine gut.

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