Teeter
can’t coddle
a brilliant mind
no matter
how soft the touch
the ladies praise you,
shattered shell vision
branded on backs
hunched over your pages
your perfect pages, preserved
for the approaching ice age,
the new hell, slate-lipped
offerings for the wolf hour
thriving under torture,
your truth is my oxygen,
I’d change nothing
about your cutthroat approach
scars from lie lashes licked
by your thorned tongue,
panic passion, a pyre
at my fingertips
a hocking of ashes, trading
of celestial bodies,
hypothetically,
even stars die eventually
unattained cosmos,
this heady exploration
sears your name
onto my ventricles
sandpaper hands, love drug
confessions, every wandering
dream scenario bleeds
through my waking days
Image by Peter H from Pixabay
Thistle Thoughts 
Your approach belongs with them and I love it. And “a hocking of ashes” is one of those phrases that makes me grin in wonder.
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Hehe, thanks, Sun! 🧡🖤
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enjoying this poem. reading these words feels like an act of rebellion.
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thank you 🙂
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A powerful poem! What imagery! This poem has such passion and love! Love the sound of it too! Like heaving breathing!
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Thank you
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My pleasure. Just a correction. I meant to say “heavy breathing” earlier.
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“Love drug confessions” – I love that!
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Thanks, Nick
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