poetry, Prose

dragon

some sudden compulsion drove me to it was an out of hand and over-the-top gesture you could say I wasn’t too happy about doing it my hand rang out like the long warble a telephone gives before it’s about to die all the others in the crowd didn’t seem to notice either it was weird in a sociable way the way I hugged her I gently spun half a shoulder into a cradle to catch her voice and her words but then I realized coming to the end of an intense experience that maybe I was being too forward with my words

you see not all woman will listen to the words we hold in our hands it’s about as communicative as we can be throwing out silent strokes and shadow hugs not everyone wants to mourn and eat all the anger into a shoulder but those that do will let you know with time and perhaps a tear that will run and hide in the folds of her skin buried and left to sink and swell and rise and fall with the beating rapid rhythm she’s given or what she received

pardon me my mind was wondering under your skirt

at the mentioned of such boyish and blunt words I traced the inky dragon on her back in an attempt to bring my mind to the front of affairs and audience members dressed in pairs and ready to dance they didn’t though most of the time you could see that they wanted to by the way that their mouths moved and the way conversation seemed to sway in and out of beat rising through the fires and black stones on the mantelpiece I listened to the flames argue with each other they ran through choked logs and smoked each other with a glowing regret in their eyes

you can tell I read into things too much even jessica realized this when her handle wondered over my cheek for a gentle stroke and hello instead was greeted with the slack jaw of a day dreamer but her giggle and brave embarrassment made my mind slot back into the simmering small talk and the wine glass’ gleaming throat which is more or less when she stroked my chin again and I

rode her dragon in the palm of my hand

Β 

PhilosopherPoet

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