No acceleration in the falling speed
of a feather oscillating
on the air of your whisper
in my ears.
Such incision
your fingers leave tenderly
on my skin,
to dim the harshness of not being reached out,
to dim my swells and bruises,
though bulging me on the other side
of the mirrors,
unknown to me,
yet
shaping my matching wings.
Your fingers
bloom upon my senses,
cropping up my feelings,
arousing
the roses of my garden,
while I am
breathing, susurrating, in your ear:
Could you see your effulgence
in the frisky citruses
of my
scorching thirst?
Your vocabulary and word choice is original, beyond most poets I’ve seen! It should read ‘leave’ and ‘bloom upon’ though. A romantic and tender poem, full of lovely imagery.
