Anesthetic is wearing off

frosty morning in february

*Image found HERE

Anesthetic is wearing off

When I am making it with you
everything is blue
kind of like a mid February morning

like sunlight looking like
dirt
on suburban streets;
a man sits sells his flowers.
If you are pretty enough, he will give u one.

Do you want the flower?
how do you pluck it,
tell me specifics,
give me calculations and charts,
tell me coordinates
I’ll be subordinate
cause distance is the outstretched arm
of the pale in Renaissance paintings
dangling a cloth over an armchair,
a Thespian inheritance;
we feel real love in the spleen.

Hold my shoulders;
I won’t scream.
Pluck the wings.
Get it over with.
Don’t ever get it over with.
Don’t ever get over it

Think of candid forest paths
and deer that roam it,
think of mountaintops
and pines oozing out years
sticky and sour;
make innocence filthy.

When I’m making it like you
it feels like candy-nothings,
cause its so gently blue
kinda like my eyes,
kinda like your eyes,
kinda like sea at 5 in the morning.

~ by Oloriel on February 19, 2019.

4 Responses to “Anesthetic is wearing off”

  1. So beautiful! I so relate to this- all of it. ❤

  2. It’s great to read and see your work, again! You are very talented! ❦

Tell me something

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

 
Punk Noir Magazine

The Only Crime Is Getting Caught

Hazel J. Hall

Writing through the chaos

Quixotic Mama

some may think I'm just a fool tilting at windmills, but maybe I'm not

Celine Aubert

Explore my books, works-in-progress, side projects, and random brain machinations.

The Violet Hour Magazine

A showcase of literary & artistic talent

Horned Things

A Literary Journal for the Discerning Creature

ART BY RITVA

Colorful~ imaginative ~ Contemporary Art

One Million Photographs

Follow along with me as I travel the world on a quest to publish one million photos

Daydreaming as a profession

Daydreaming and then, maybe, writing a poem about it. And that's my life.

Pungent Sound Journal of Pulp Poetry

Poetry and Commentary that Smells

Croque-Melpomene

Author of "Within Paravent Walls", "Daughterbody I | a self-exorcism through poetry", "Daughterbody II | a self-reclamation through poetry", "you ate popcorn in my house of grief | transgenerational poetry", "mutterseelenallein und splitterfasernackt | transgenerationale Trauma- und Trauergedichte" & "symbiosis | a sister's psychogeographical grief". Pentalingual Idealist. Hypercreative homebody. Transgenerational Poetess.

Tricia Sankey

poet and author of The Light in the Cave

Brave & Reckless

Reclaiming my inner badass at 50

%d bloggers like this: