Vanilla

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Sensuality.

Submitted: November 21, 2015

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Submitted: November 21, 2015

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Idle apologies, fill the paper bags
of void lungs. Still
the fear of exhaling, inhaling, the rise and fall of the chest,
a judder, a splinter in the eyes.

A thin, sole hair on the inner thigh
touching silk with lace,
an insuperable barricade for the predatory gaze.
A lick of perfume upon the pores,
a storm under skin.

A thumbnail skims the surface of the calf,
when fabric glides over the hills and down 
valleys of the muscle, attentive
to the curve of the knee
and the heel of the foot.

A dripping liquid from the centre
of the neck, across marble collarbones,
like rain. A cradle to his mouth,
she sighs a song of swans,
as her velvet pores flourish lilies,
and she sweats vanilla on the sheets.


© Copyright 2020 AlanaLouiseMcDermott. All rights reserved.

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