The sea moans against the shore, drunk on desire,
waves rising, collapsing—fingers of fire.
The sun, half-dressed in the trembling sky,
melts like honey where your lips lie.
I taste it in the salt, in the fevered air,
in the way the wind unravels your hair.
Comments
waves rising, collapsing—fingers of fire.
The sun, half-dressed in the trembling sky,
melts like honey where your lips lie.
I taste it in the salt, in the fevered air,
in the way the wind unravels your hair.