|
|
Thursday, October 9th, 2003
|
4:33p
Thin ankle, uncovered by falling cotton.
Tendon cords, the back of his boyish neck.
Soft voice, high on my name.
This thing we share
Is naked in the air.
Formal words, hiding this secret.
Tender curves, her forbidden places.
White skin, mirrored in my hair.
The honest vulnerabilities of love,
The chink in the everyday armour of dissemblance
Showing our tender necks,
To be on the line.
I had to post this in here as well as on  writingprojects just so I remember I've done it! It was another of those twenty minute things, and I tend to forget when I've written poetry.
I should be reading about Epicureanism for tomorrow, but I'm so tired. And I'm sure I'm going to get my period tomorrow, probably in Leeds station or something, knowing my luck! I'm really afraid of being in that much pain when I'm not at home, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed. And after this one I promise to go to the doctors and get myself on the Pill. Eeek.
current mood:  guilty
current music: Thief of Time - Terry Pratchett (read by Tony Robinson) (comment on this)
|
|
|
|