PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

alive is the wine
that reaches my lips,
blurring my eyes
and curving your hips.

hypnotic in heft
like a bust on cold stone,
it dreams as it drips
to erotic unknowns.

though pleasured you’re not
by my leisure afoot,
with your cigarettes lit
by love's cinders and soot

so much time in a frame
of a reference it's not,
so much lost without gain
that our reverence forgot

tongues twisted and taut
until nimbly numbed,
blush dripping and dropped
onto bodies succumbed

into shapes never seen,
like acrobats fused
by electrical shocks
and invisible screws.

but my bottle runs dry
just when lips shiver wet.
will the lightning strike twice,
on our love’s silhouette?