Image by the author
Muslin or silk,
how does it feel
a touch of my
fingertips
on your lips?
Soil,
water,
and wind
harden my skin.
Dry, cracked,
and rough
sometimes it bleeds
leaving red marks
on everything.
So inviting and sweet
are your lips.
Your eyes wondering,
and mind daydreaming
creating illusions
of what you want me to be.
Silk not muslin
to touch your lips.
Hands soft as feathers,
nails polished and painted.
Lipstick, lace,
and transparent underwear -
A mannequin is what you want.
Voiceless and dumb
but just right to get you hard.
A thought as I’m watching you go —
a hand cream would be nice
so my hands wouldn’t feel so rough
to someone who knows
how it feels
when muslin turns into silk.
Comments2
Iva, the rich poetic examination of a relationship or encounter not quite authentic contrasts with the second half of your commentary which becomes almost manifesto like.
I can only support ‘pain is not love, not in any tongue.’
Dave, from where do you take all this words for describing ones poem, in this case mine? I read it three times and I still don't know what you are saying. It may well be that I'm too tired and words ( especially English) aren't coming through to my brain.
Anyway, thank you for taking the time to read and comment on this poem 🤍🦋
Missed the mark? I thought the poem gave a comment on the relationship or encounter which was mostly fantasy on the part to the other half and therefore not authentic.
I voted for ‘pain is not love, not in any tongue.’ Powerfully worded.
'See you later.....
No, you didn't miss anything, I missed to understand what you wrote. It happiness when I'm tired 😉
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.