beauty, love, lust, poetry, sex, women

Clay

The floor,

Is a potter’s wheel

And you,

My clay,

Shape you

Fingers biting deep,

To give you form,

Juices pooling

As you gain shape,

Reforming under my

Attention,

Then I will take you,

Let you bake,

In my fire

Until you emerge,

Shining and new,

Functional and beautiful,

A vessel to be filled,

With the feminine divine.

 

 

Advertisements
Standard

One thought on “Clay

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s