Your smile cracks like fireworks,
My knees crack like I'm about to pray to gods never believed in before...
Tonight.
Your hands clench the strings of me,
Speak so I can seek freedom like a balloon released.
I imagine your lips drinking in my skin.
Your eyes scare me because I can't drive home if I let your spirit intoxicate me.
I don't know what my mouth will do if my words are not written in ink but written with caresses;
We walked through the rose garden so you could make me forget how to speak.
The crickets play the night like a sheet of music:
Their legs are violins and our legs a brass plated string quartet;
The moon, our great conductor, your fingertips play me like an orchestra.
The sun will rise in a few hours to a ballad sung in laughter, and crickets, and toads, and the breeze across the lake, and talking about the stars.
I love the visuals your words conjure in this. You have a very fluent and precise method of deliverance when you write, and I'm really pleased in your articulation of this. The image you picked really compliments the piece fabulously. Brilliant work! :)
Thank you so much, dearest! Your words are so kind.
"My knees crack like I'm about to pray to gods never believed in before...
Tonight."
Ah, very wonderful imagery.
Thank you. This is actually one of my favorites.