beauty, love, lust, poetry, sex, women

In soft hours

In these soft hours

Whilst the world

Clings to sleep

I am about my purpose

Words spill

From heart through veins

Out into fingers

Dancing across the page

The way they dance across

Your skin

When you think of me

This is who I am

king warrior magician lover

a gift and a prize

held in high esteem

fuelled not by dreams

for they fade on waking

nor inspiration, which

is all the more beautiful

for its inconstancy

but by hard, throbbing purpose

That would rob you of breath

If you were to touch me




One thought on “In soft hours

  1. Pingback: Weekend Omnibus | MB Blissett

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