The matter we're made of.

Sliktor's avatar
By Sliktor
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Silk. Wrapped itself around my neck,
Like it owned me.

Until, on the edge of this precipice I stood,
And the wind,
Which had travelled across the sea
Whips around my body.
Batters the bare cliff.
And took the scarf from me.

Delicately dancing and contorting in the wind.
Matching the movements of the waves below.
I think of you.

Unexpectedly losing myself.
Stolen moments.
The air that runs through us.
Owning us.
And the waves that run across my skin.
Your fingers or my mind?
I feel it in my blood.
Dancing, contorting, with your body below.
Do we dance with the sea too?


Velvet. Slips off my shoulders for the fourth time that evening.
Never staying still on my body.
Or is it my body that keeps moving?
To feel the nectar running over me,
Like liquid marble.

Smooth, rich movements as it runs between my fingers.
My legs between your legs.
Wrapped around my shoulders.
Wrapped around your hips.
Somehow luxurious.
Do you keep moving or is it I?
Shaking beneath your lips.


Comforting. Common.
Without the poetry.
But still, cotton too.
Holds me like your words do.

Warm, like your laughter.
it never falters.
never made out to be an effort.
Consistent. Heart warming.
A glass of milk or a cup of tea.
Your words teach me of our matter.
From cotton to the sea.
© 2019 - 2020 Sliktor
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