in the sea pool

of your love

at ankle depth

wearing the thin

line of the surface

as a bracelet

on my flesh… Token

of your love,

never to be heard

never to be seen

only to be felt.

Dipping my feet

though yearning

to dive, dive into

the sea pool of

your love… Knowing

damn well,

knowing for a fact,

how your beauty

inebriates me, how

your raw strength

attracts me like a

fly, over a jar of

honey, like a moth

to the light.

Well aware, that

staring from the

bank, wearing

nothing but a handful

of sunrays, standing

straight as a plank,

one last breath, hanging

on the edge of my lip,

if I give in, I’ll jump

head first, no second

thoughts before splitting

the waters, before

sinking so deeply

into your meanders

that I’ll never see

the light of day

again. My hair dancing

through your waves,

lungs drowned in

the memories, deeper

and deeper, and I

would wonder… While

this sweet agony is

wrecking me, my Love

do you even feel

me founder?

---

Cyranny is an independant poet/writer hosting what she likes to call a “convenience blog”. Her Cove is the home of her everyday thoughts. Living in Montréal and working in the technical support field, she escapes life’s craziness through writing. From simple life anecdotes to poetry and fantasy, from humor to romance, anything goes in The Cove. Curious? Come in, take a seat and enjoy the French connection!