you.
crush .
.
me. crashing
against castles, against
the back
bones of the wrecked
hips of the ocean
so hard, that i taste
your mother of pearl membranes
pul.sing.
sing.ing
as the sea
swells…i smell you
like psalms of salt
on skin as every
s.hell
beneath
grinds to sand.
we made this
.
tide.
turn
back.
© 2008 saintedmad
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Printed from www.DarkPoetry.com/dp/10977/108680 on Saturday July 05th, 2008 04:33 PM
Certain elements © 1996-2008 Matthew Steven (matts.org)
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