His feet
soft from never
walking on anything
except my heart; I fall beneath
his feet.
.
His eyes
have burnt me up
alive; I am turned to
dust and swept away by his
lashes.
.
His hands
dissolved my stone
reshaped me; a waxen
toy that melts under his trailing
fingers.
.
His chest
invites my kiss -
shall I count his heartbeats
or the so scattered freckles with
my lips?
.
His ears
stick out a bit.
That's true; but who the hell
asked you? You'll never get to kiss
his ears.
If you liked this poem, you might like His Haibun.
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TheSpinstress
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