Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

I give you my lips to look at, my teeth peeking behind them -
my neck stretched, exposed,
but I will age beyond this point
and when I do a fountain of phantoms
will arrive at the foot of your bed to be with you always

I will close my eyes and you can draw on my face
I become a large doorway, a girl sitting on a tree stump,
a baby that yawns

I stand trapped in the dark dress you gave me to wear
my wild bubbles gather on your windows

you dream of many birds
and many women dressed in white bathrobes
standing on their balconies by the river
each with one thigh showing

it is a country of rain

gorgeous. you paint such words. Capitalized “such”.

Thx, judih ~*~

I don't believe this mortal form is the end-all.....we are energy pure and simple......this bag of bones is more fertilizer.....

rain and winds and babies that yawn, it goes on.