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Sex Tides and Cosmic Dust
By Rebel tiGer King
Dust devils whirling at her feet.
She sways with the wind, flirting with the recollections of the sun that
once lit up her smile.
Sweet girl.
Dancing thru the ashes spilt from the urn of our seduction.
Nurturing the sexual tension into small talk and beer conversations.
She wants me, I want her mind.
And I can't see past those picket lashes
Stretching to the heavens.
She knows the horizon holds her fate and mine
One and the same.
A barrier of man and a promise to a god that will not mind.
We walk past each other like glaciers on fire,
Flooding the rivers with our lust.
It'll be different tomorrow,
Maybe.
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Copyright 2015 Rebel tiGer King
Published on Wednesday, March 18, 2015.
Filed under: "Reflective" and
"Poetry"
Comments on "Sex Tides and Cosmic Dust "
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A former member wrote:
The spelling of 'thru' creates a visual rhyme with 'urn'--a highly effective literary device that is seldom used. "Picket lashes" denotes BEAUTIFUL style and a fantastic talent for comparative figures of speech. I'm looking forward to reading more of your work. The topic really draws one in...
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On Wednesday, March 18, 2015, TropicalSnowstorm
(1703)
wrote:
"It'll be different tomorrow, Maybe." - probably not, but you captured this state well. I love the imagery of walking past each other like glaciers...glaciers on fire. Painfully slow, but destined to melt. : ) Ciao, T/S
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