Self - Portrait Art | « previous | index | next » |
At your door...
the rain at midnight runs warm
a starless sky thunders above, showering
gently, steadily upon me
down the side of my neck, it runs
resting for a moment
in the shallow pocket, there
above my collar bone
I absorb the moisture falling
from the heavens and rising
from the earth
I become as fragrant
as the night itself, hot
and wet, ripe with a scent
reserved only for a woman
ready to surrender
barefoot, I smile and run
stumbling across a path uneven
and unforgiving
so, when I arrive
at your door, my dear love,
damp and breathless, my strawberry blonde
hair, long and tangled
with wet strands pressed against
my flushed cheek,
with your little finger, brush them gently
back and kiss me deeply, knowing
that every time
I am released, I will
return to you
xoxo, gee
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