She winked from
across the ocean-
a room full of trends
and witicisms-
I'm poison to her prey.
Cram my frame
into a false thought,
lock my pheromones away.
These things only hurt
in the end.
Progressive enchantment;
the perfume swirls,
flirting with my senses.
That tiny dress
is my personal prison.
I've lost it again,
I've lost my mind.
-
Author:
rrivera138 (
Offline) - Published: February 7th, 2018 01:26
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 70
- Users favorite of this poem: TrystanBehm, Theskyisnotblue
Offline)
Comments3
She's gotcha! Good one..........
As simple as that. 😊 Thank you.
Great write
Thanks a lot. Appreciated.
Welcome
I don't pretend to know the specific pretext of the emotion behind this great write - but it conjured up some very specific emotions in me. The way you play with and blend the blatant and allegorical is awesome - thank you very much for sharing. Really like this one!
Thank you. As a "poet" my current challenge is adding more context to my writing while preserving the vague familiarity that ambiguous language produces. I appreciate that you appreciate this though.
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.