A Deep Blue Lovesong

If I touch my lips to your wrist can I feel the rise and fall
like the waves of the ocean
because there is a tidal pull in you and I hear it
when I press you to my ear.
Like water you pull the light from the moon and glow with it
and as long as I can follow that shimmer I will never get lost.
Soft like sand and water,
soft like sea foam wings,
and the brush against my skin feels like it’s leaving stars in its wake;
a trail to navigate by at night.
And a silvery kind of song rises in my throat caught and flashing,
but even if the words won’t surface,
I can hum it to you…
while I touch my lips to your wrist once more.




About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. Not.....me. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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