He Fed me….

by in Poetry and tagged , , , , ,

 

he fed me with words

what a delicate stomach that i have
such lovely skills he has

and the words ~ before ~so untied
now have a body and  breathe

my breast arched like a bow
my breath so silently ~ rested ~

 

repeat an echo on my heart
feeling  at the beginning

that was a soft  blowing
no, no ~a murmur~ insisting

 

saying what i can’t explainpeaches

a punch … makes me pull the air
while  i inhale scent  of fruits

and i tilt myself again
not as an arch but as a woman

what a sophisticated love is that

food me with his words  and breathing  me  as his air

 

11 thoughts on “He Fed me….”

  2. Yes, Mirna-delicate as a feather with an underlying substance and life! More than that as well, left for the imagination and beyond. Boa Pascoa pra Voce e todo o mundo-Mishka Allport-Fortaleza, Brasil

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  4. The rain is so softly falling Falling I can barely hear it over my breath Yet it’s still evading Throughout the moist evening A thing like from another world A world round like a peach colored The soft wet drops insisting That they are there only if one listens Behind the lungs that glisten And move their own moisture Forevermore

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