Shoulder Blade Braille and Floating Stars

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It was a slow drip,
the way he made love to me.
Exhaling sighs into my bones,
letting fire mix with marrow.
His fingers pulsed
into my skin,
and I could feel his
heart beat under the
blue rivers of his wrist.
I let him seep into me.
The smell of his evening shower,
and the grizzly needles
along his jawline dotting
Braille along my shoulder blades.
Eyes that came alive when
the lights dimmed.
I watched him trace the
sinews of my spine,
felt stars float in my belly.
The addiction was making
me lose it.
Patient zero.
We were an experiment.
The intensity,
I swear,
he’s getting to me.
Under my skin —
one slip, one trip,
the match is lit.


  1. great poem

  2. Great Post ๐Ÿ‘

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