Feast Of Silence

image found at Etsy

Your words spread soft against my skin like butter. slow and languid like honey. my tongue made thick like many glasses of wine. I ache to curl against your flesh, and let you take refuge between my softest places.

I opened like a fresh shell, held in hunger within a sailors palm. . I told of my insecurities, the things that which make me writhe, make me wither. Surrendering the pearls at your pleasure.

I desired to thrive against the love of you. But the hallways were long, and the many doors did not swing for me. I press my hungry ear to the frame of promises, and ache to hear your call.

But day after day there is a feast of silence. And I continue to search for a key, that was never given.


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