Basorexia
Adrift in a ocean
of corpus drops
holding onto balloons
filled with your memory
they can't save me
from drowning,
the helium of you
has left my flutter
the whisper
of your sobriquet
has turned my atrium
to granite,
weighted down,
I'm slipping into
a swarthy abyss
clenching fragments
of giggling caritas,
greased tardiness
tingles to quiescent
ebbing as a Phoenix's whimper
in the eddies of your sigh.
Copyright © 2017 Whisperingquill.All Rights Reserved
Star Mother
She is a blaze torn storm
of withering Suns glim rods
ejecting seismic friction
upon broken chimes
embedding crystals
of maternal marrow
Star Mother bonded
to anti-matter weaving
sempiternal tapestries
binding elysian whispers
to pacify rogue galaxies,
eon's are braided
into her spectrum
of flowing locks
gravity emits
from her smile,
she rips equidistant portals
with wrathful grace
a cynosure of pixie glitter
eclipses the pitter patter
of red dwarfs,
she weeps
discharging supernovas
only too lull
in the playground
of a event horizon.
Copyright © 2017 Whisperingquill.All Rights Reserved
-
Author:
Whisperingquill (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 28th, 2017 12:15
- Category: Love
- Views: 36
- User favorite of this poem: Heather T.
Offline)
Comments1
Have to agree with Diamond, love Star Mother. Am not so sure yet about Basorexia (love that word). Where does the urge to kiss come in?
The very end Fred as I pulled away I died from the kiss👍🏼
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