Lover Poem by Joyelle Osburn
Lover
my skin dissolves
on your lips
my breath sets
your skin afire
my breast melts
under your tongue
my mind turns to whispers;
desire travels my veins.
I am an arch
of a fine tuned harp
strummed for bleeding fingertips
the moon is nothing
compared to the glimmer
of the sweat on my back
boiling into grains
of tiny, delicious rocks
retreating in the palm
of your hand
that owns me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/10/2024 10:18:57 PM # 1.0.0.1119
'retreating in the palm of your hand that owns me.' perfect finish to a beautiful piece.