Drifting

light

Her shell weighted and dry, mite like irritation upon touch

Wearing her ethusiasm like stained, tattered lace

Squinted sofistication beneath an inferior history

Grotesquely adorned with rusted shackles that hold no key

Eyes drawn with the burden of memory

Flickering affect

A gentle hand passing words, supposition of light

Reminded of painted memories of when she once closed her eyes

For a moment her onerous cloak of thoughts drift

A lightness of breath

In the distance she sees it

Happiness

~Alisa Hutton

Succulent

lips

Cashmere

Close your eyes and imagine the feel, hers

Touch with bated intensity, softly, she wants to be mapped in long curious stroke

One finger at a time, deep, slow

She is the muse and the poet

Paint her canvas, devour whole

She draws you closer, her breath, listen, feel it

Climbing up your neck, her lips gently whisper all you need to know

She is warming a story, anticipatory rhapsodic rhythm, motion, hers and yours

Did you notice the sapphire rug on the floor?

Take off your shoes, she plans to have you there, take you in effortless flow

Transcend

Take her closer to God

Succulent

A word you should know

~Alisa Hutton