ROMANCE Poem: A PROPHECY OF BODIES, by Riley Danvers

Your eyes stare into mine and I
see empty pages waiting for
quill, waiting for ink, waiting
for all the words not yet
written. Blue eyes, an ocean
of shooting stars coming to life
in an hourglass, each breath,
each heartbeat, another particle
of time falling through the spine.

Your hands pull me gently in and I
feel unsung notes waiting
to be set free, waiting to be sung,
waiting for shattered silence to tear open
fragments of bone. Strong hands
moving with the current pulsating
on ripples of bated breath, each
touch, each caress, a movement
of yearning crashing through tidal waves.

Your lips graze mine and I breathe
quasars waiting to be
full, waiting to overflow, waiting
to hold all the light from this
midnight sky. Soft lips searching
for life in the upper atmosphere,
each leap, each lunge, another
whispered prayer wandering
through forest fires.

Your skin blends with mine and I
taste unfiltered rain drops waiting
for air, waiting for space, waiting
for waterfalls against a glass
canvas. Hot skin, reminder
that this moment simmers
in a kaleidoscope or summer,
each breath, each caress, each
lunge, a prophecy of bodies
falling through the spine, crashing
through tidal waves, wandering
through forest fires to skip a beat
and start again.

Author: poetryfest

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