SkinMature

Curtains frame

Olive sheet

If light were tangible

It’d be paper thin

Gold

The color of skin

Flesh and fat

Warmth

Respiration wins

Blink twice

The sheen

Slowly wanes

It seems

Disregard the beats

Rivers for cells to swim

A slight glow

Delicate heat

Fine membrane

This radiance knows

No other body

No other prose

The End

5 comments about this poem Feed