HOLD YOUR COLOUR

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HOLD YOUR COLOUR

There you are.
Born of silence upon my lips,
which know not of ivory cream
as delicate as yours.

Your stone cold eyes
stroking my skin to shivers;
how brittle is the sand that
you lay upon tonight?

Tell me, did it hurt
when he laid his sacrifice
upon your body? His white-
knuckled grasp on your chest.

And your priestly vestments;
the sliding drapery around
your hips. Is it a lover's dream,
or a beggar's sin?

There you stay.
Aphrodite reborn in mortal hands,
with love as sweet as apple, and
beauty as grand as Olympus.

Author's Note

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Thank you the feedback in advance.

Reviews

[Curly Grace]

A quiet ache moves through this...
beauty carved, worshipped, and wounded,
held between mortal hands
and something older than desire.
Aphrodite feels well‑earned here.

[Anne Timmins]

A beautiful piece of writing

[Abdul Aziz]

I see you're still writing, and still writing as excellently as you always have! I confess to not knowing much about Western mythology (or even Eastern mythology for that matter), but I do know an excellent poem when I see one. Feels good reading your poetry again, brother.