Concave
My wrappings are undone
And I gorge myself on the feeling
The emptiness
You find so attractive in me.
You twisted it all
Turned me into a game
You still play me…
Though you left an age ago.
Hipbones, cheekbones
That perfection you found so sweet
In me.
(c) 2007
Penelope Luke
May 11, 2011 at 9:12 pm
I enjoyed reading your poem. You have a great way of using words to create a picture.