Rachel, The Colder Poem by Guy Northam
Rachel, The Colder
My pale blue fingers cannot grasp
The coolness of my soul
Or hold the gut feeling I have
For you. They cannot trace
The adumbration of my lust
To the point where my fears begin.
They can only touch your skin
And with their pads whiten
In patches the blueness found in you,
Always that engrained reserve, stifling you.
Monday, August 11, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: love and pain
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4/26/2024 3:55:06 PM # 1.0.0.1119
