A speck of dust, a mote, a plank

A speck of dust, a mote, a plank
Falls off my little powder wings
Sometimes destroyed,
sometimes eaten by your glow.
Your touch degrades my dust body
Scales sliding into the fissure of your kiss
But the bit that I save in my heart
Is my little chitin-skinned spite.
I scream as you bite
Stop following me! &
you say, “I cannot move.
I am still right here.”
But as I turn and try to fly away
You are right in front of me.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I'm hoping interested persons will stop by my new blog, www.coffeewithleonardcohen.com.

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Also see:  "Vanessa Atalanta

Also see:  "Vanessa Atalanta in a wind tunnel" by jonzac_almighty