It’s a matter of texture, at my fingers, on my tongue Slipping down my throat deliciously, eyes rolling back in my head Acid, sweet, straight up, neat Crystalline pieces melt in a pool of viscous saliva
It’s a matter of texture, at my hands, on my eyes Creamy flesh of the inner thigh, smooth, I linger in anticipation Fruitful, strong, softly, long The kiss slightly wet, makes a mess of my little mind
It’s a matter of texture, at my soles, on my skin Digging toes sharing molecular harmony with the essence of organic life Sharp, growing, warmth, flowing Icy cold water rinses the tension from between my toes
It’s a matter of texture, at my thoughts, on my mind Information slides like plate tectonics, engaging ideas Shifting, grinding, rolling, binding My thoughts resonate at the frequency of the expanding universe
It's a matter of brilliance, through your eyes, what you have us spy.
Your words are cascading, flowing, igniting and I can never read one
of your poems just once. Your imagery is incredible. Way to go, you've
done it again. Keep them coming, please. :)
Touch is the best sense....or can be. This piece really makes me think, dig deep into my tiny brain. I love the rhyme sceme you have going, and the way you start every stanza with "It's a matter of texture". Amazing words here...
apparently, it's also a matter of poetry...finding a brother is more better than anything...there's a girl in every port (until we meet the right one, of course); but a brother, that's a rare event...I like your thinking...
Like to hang out with other writers and see what's what. Have met a lot of good people on this and other sites through the years. Decided to come back and do a little posting and reading. Hit me up i.. more..