poems

So, so beautiful.

So, so beautiful.

15/04/18

It’s like she doesn’t understand how much I’m taken.

Those powerful lines of integration.

The smell of the ocean inside her thighs.

The shine of the moon beyond her eyes.

A metaphysical redundancy where the logic gave up.

She’s Opal Fruits and Starburst filled with a rough love.

Dancing glaciers.

A broken radius.

Bespoke unity in a world not made for us.

Cold clarity.

Harsh reality.

Dance anyway, else the show stops for me.

It’s a pity too,

What’s so cold can be so beautiful.

© G.P Williamson 2018

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