I trace your jawline, and you awake
Asunder: am I to believe the touch of
Another would best suit you
My lover?
Wrapped in silk sheets,
Our legs knotted like silk-laces,
Your sun-shower eyes basking in mine:
Must we live in a world where every Hello
Is followed by Goodbye.
We live in a world of closed doors;
Locked locks, deception of ourselves
Shielding us from the world
That does not offer us a lot.
Today I am sightless of you. How-
Ever, ley me close my eyes, I can take us
There: I pull you in; you push me away,
Could I persuade you to, “Stay?”
I persuade by doing that thing I
Do and you like a lot. Our hands possessed
By lust. Gasping for air, you strike
Me with that delicious smile —the satisfying
Gaze of an overdue desire.
My ears can not tune out the —Knock, knock,
Knock— from the door: I coddle you close and
Closer —knock, knock. They can wait. But I can
Not unsee those sun-shower eyes when they lost
That glow.
Knock, knock, knock— I respond
“Yes, hello?” I can not un-remind myself
When to me you whispered,
“Goodbye, I think I should go.”
Author Bio:
Bittencourt is an aspiring literary artist from South Florida. Aside from getting her own pieces published, she writes family stories for Habitat for Humanity of South Palm Beach. Currently, Bittencourt attends Florida Atlantic University wherein she will receive a B.A. in English with a concentration in British literature, as well as minor in Theatre. Thereafter, she has her eyes set on moving to the Big Apple where she will continue to write.
Asunder: am I to believe the touch of
Another would best suit you
My lover?
Wrapped in silk sheets,
Our legs knotted like silk-laces,
Your sun-shower eyes basking in mine:
Must we live in a world where every Hello
Is followed by Goodbye.
We live in a world of closed doors;
Locked locks, deception of ourselves
Shielding us from the world
That does not offer us a lot.
Today I am sightless of you. How-
Ever, ley me close my eyes, I can take us
There: I pull you in; you push me away,
Could I persuade you to, “Stay?”
I persuade by doing that thing I
Do and you like a lot. Our hands possessed
By lust. Gasping for air, you strike
Me with that delicious smile —the satisfying
Gaze of an overdue desire.
My ears can not tune out the —Knock, knock,
Knock— from the door: I coddle you close and
Closer —knock, knock. They can wait. But I can
Not unsee those sun-shower eyes when they lost
That glow.
Knock, knock, knock— I respond
“Yes, hello?” I can not un-remind myself
When to me you whispered,
“Goodbye, I think I should go.”
Author Bio:
Bittencourt is an aspiring literary artist from South Florida. Aside from getting her own pieces published, she writes family stories for Habitat for Humanity of South Palm Beach. Currently, Bittencourt attends Florida Atlantic University wherein she will receive a B.A. in English with a concentration in British literature, as well as minor in Theatre. Thereafter, she has her eyes set on moving to the Big Apple where she will continue to write.
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