poet Erica Francis

Erica Francis

Her Methodical Tongue Touched The Tip.

Her methodical tongue touched the tip.
Their toes tickled by the warm waves.
Love was plausible,
but utterly unfathomable
the time it unfolded.

She loves herself.
She is perfect in the mirror.

But she never told him,
that she felt the same way about herself
as she did about him.

Dates in furniture stores
and eleven o'clock breakfasts
ended as abruptly as they started
in an office downtown.

Doors open
with every step forward
and every step back.

Redemption is but only
a mouse-click away.

She held his hand,
but for a brief second.
Touching him was like ice,
but thinking about him
was like a clean pair of shoes,
fresh out of the dryer.

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Poem Edited: Tuesday, April 19, 2011

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Comments about Her Methodical Tongue Touched The Tip. by Erica Francis

  • Goldy Locks (10/24/2007 2:54:00 PM)

    you put your shoes in the dryer? could have used another comparison there; maybe socks? .. I like the dates part. And you should tell him, how you feel, `love is so short and oblivion so long.' best care, sjg

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