Pressing...Pulling

The language of
your body translates
your addiction to
my touch.

Red roses on
my cheeks reveal,
I am held here
under pressing palm
of desire.

Captive inside your need.

Lost in the thought of
your skin and what
tendrilled, pulling magic
lies beneath.

Now,
from somewhere deep,
a shuddering sigh
lets go, to
whisper things
unspoken.

And after it's cascade
has reached down
over ledge and
through crevice of
my very being,

I can't remember who
uttered the breath.

Was it you or me or
netted earth-breeze?

Who sent that ruffle
pushing through the leaves?

This soft spell-haze
parts and lifts as
I take away my hands.

Shaking, waking now
taking an exit from
this dream.

But a sudden shift
in current and cloud
midstride
turns me round,

to be snared
by your unlocked gaze.
Wherein appears
vivid and clear,

What forest of your eyes!

And there am I
pulled right inside
blinking, wide-eyed
and wandering
through the thick of it.

by Tara Crown

Other poems of CROWN (22)

Comments (1)

Not really a huge fan of love poetry, but I liked this one. Unpretentious, but moving. -chuck