Subtle Beauties
Living moments, tangled in memory.
The fog of rain over city skylines, the planet
awash with grey. Your worn fingers
//
kissing my chest, drawing pictures in my flesh--
untethering my scars from my brain.
//
The smell of sweat after sex, hands filling
my hair, weaving through knots.
//
Laughter.
Petrichor.
//
Mist slowly seeping; her gentle body
sinking into Earth's folds.
//
The shine of Earth's skin, atmosphere
saturated with sadness. My body
//
the middle spoon between You
and old, greying fur. Paws stretching
into hands--big stretch--kneading.
//
Claws pricking my fingertips.
My blood staining the surface. Green eyes
widen and blink, slow.
//
The sound of their small bodies, rumbling.
A euphony of small hearts,
beating.
//
The soft of Your cheek as it yields
to my lips. The texture of Your shoulder
//
buried
against my mouth, our arms tightly bound.
//
The cold rain pelting our backs as we run
inside--keys left far behind.
//
Red break lights illuminating us, grasping
the details of Your skin. Subtle threads--
//
a history entangled
in memory. My need
//
to kiss You. Language
coiling down my tongue like a bullet
//
verbatim: vibrations orbiting
our personal solar systems. The stars
//
and sky--reflecting in Your eyes. Your soul
reaching out
//
to mine.
//
Whines, unhinged, roaring from four-legged bodies:
canine melodrama candidly melting
against me. Their eyes a pool
of unadulterated love.
//
Music strumming the air--a universe
tucked beneath us, revealed
//
briefly
through us, into our minds.
//
Piano keys below fingers: entangled
sounds
//
freed.
Quiet worlds existing around us, unnoticed. Coded
//
genius living inside tiny mechanical brains;
interacting, inspiring. The comfort of the strange.
//
The strangeness of comfort.
//
Your body reassurance, engulfing me as I cry.
Your mouth wet against mine, eyes
//
closed, whispering:
It's okay to cry.
//
Your hands warm, fingers intertwined.
The tethering of bed at night, our bodies
//
settling. The subtle beauty of simply resonating--
hearts
//
below ribcage, a rainbow
below skin--
//
waking up,
and breathing in.
About the Creator
Corvus
A writer and lover of poetry, fiction, and more. Always open to polite, constructive criticism and general advice.
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Tea set by a suffragette
Pankhurst is a name well known to the history of women’s suffrage. Who hasn't heard the name Emmaline Pankhurst, founder of the Women's Social and Political Union (WSPU), an all-women organisation campaigning for the right to vote? The group that helped to achieve the right to vote for women in Great Britain and Ireland in 1918. Some know of her daughter Christabel, both being honoured by the Pankhurst memorial in Victoria Palace Gardens, London, right next to the UK Parliament buildings. Sylvia Pankhurst is notably not included in the monument. Why? Because she split with the WSPU to campaign against Britain's entry into First World War.
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