February 27, 2008

Love poem for a boy not big on poetry.

Though I don't brush my hair,
I found myself pulling tangled strands from my brush.
I smiled as I shook my head -
A scent like Sunday morning
filled the cramped bathroom.
It was all bright white light
and your broad flat back
amongst the sheets.
I move close to you,
so close I forget which body is mine,
which body is yours.
My forehead against your shoulder,
I inhale -

1 comment:

Ellie said...

Aw! Lovely! And I'm not big on (non-C18) poetry either! But lovely! Also, call me.