Opulentious

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: December 30, 2017

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Submitted: December 30, 2017

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Captive, I am, in your eyes,

leaning in this betrothed pose,

waxed away, gently etched onto paper, such as a fallen  pressed leaf,

with rust curling around this pose,

flimsy in the gentlest of breeze, who I am to pretend to not be so,

in the awakening of your beauty,

these silvery aqueous sunshine bones bend,

alive;

stopped dead.

 

 

 


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