Sur La Plage

She in the eyes of wine.
A castle of sand rose
sur la plage.
We went sauntering into…
A dribbling scarab for a moon.
There were moments
where she’d swear and swoon…
The blades of habit crashing…
Clashing… Sur la plage.
Et les neiges de mon âme
ont apporté avec eux
des vents sauvages.
We feasted at dawn.
Sweet, unripe flesh.

-r. miller

Advertisements

4 thoughts on “Sur La Plage

Ring the Call Button

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s