My Lovely Rita:
Narrative poem in collaboration with Penn Mysteries
Enlarge your tent
to contain our love!
Before the winds trample us like blue wildebeest—
Canvas out stretched,
my head on his chest.
His musk, makes me lust for his touch...
My head on his chest
Our eyes glazed, over
as if stars were within our eyes—
It’s unsafe outside, my love Rita!
Fingers pointing,
laughing loud as spotted hyenas.
Mouths rumbling,
like the jaws of a crocodile lurking!
Array with the content of our hearts to pounce!
You’re safe from hurt, my love Rita!
Bounce on me!
His lips trimble-
Her love brushes his skin,
soft, elegant as a gazelle hiding among tall grasses,
His heart races like a cheetah
as he
envisions endless plains,
as her love is pearlescent.
She melts down my defenses in kisses...
Her heart worth the chase, my lovely Rita!
About the Creator
Saroyan Coles
I want to empower others with my writing. I have always dreamed of seeing my name, on something.
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Clinging to Childhood
The playground is empty, as it should be past sundown. There is a warm breeze, and I can see everything despite the late hour. What time is it, anyway? It could very well be past midnight. I can never keep track of time, especially in the summer. A prickly piece of popcorn hides like a stowaway in the left cup of my padded training bra. I stuffed the tissue in last minute— a decision I’m beginning to regret, based on the events that are unfolding rapidly before me. To my left, laying non-chalantly on his back, is my date for the evening. He is two years older, could probably grow facial hair if he wanted to, and drives a secondhand Honda. He may as well be a Man. I, on the other hand, feel like a fraud with my too-short short-shorts, sparkly lip gloss, and makeshift push-up bra. I keep my arms pinned to my sides as I feel the dreaded circles of sweat beginning to manifest on my brand new Abercrombie top. I cup my elbows with my hands and stare down at my hint of cleavage, praying that the tissue doesn’t pop out like a white flag surrendouring my lack of womanhood.
By Marti Maley7 days ago in Fiction
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