Monday, August 10, 2009

Porcelain

soft consonants trickled from her lips
as though dead air's perfume.
delicate limbs placed deliberate dishes
on obedient stacks, one by one.
her chin crossed a shoulder,
eyes deep and pained.
syllables like orchestral chords
uttered acceptance.

1 comment:

Molly Sharp said...

soo thats wat porcelain is uh...haa i just think of my skin when iam not tan haa lov ya..