sweet disposition

2010-01-23 | 4:09 a.m.

its dangerous-
the tenderness
i yeild when yeilding
under tender finger tips.
he knows me-
i'm not sweet
i'm a shipwreck.
i can count the chills on
the columns of my spine.
i know his scent
by heart.
i am not darling
i am a beastie.
i know him
and i'm freezing.
for want of warmth.
love.
embrace.
under accusative eyes
under wispers,
the gravity of which
pins me to the wall.
hands i admire
fingers pressed against my lips.

i'm not obstinate
i'm lithe. all over, all over.

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