Honeysuckle

Somewhere a flower smiles

Clear, so pure it’s almost nothing,

Like a lover’s sleeping lips.

I breathe it gradually,

Aware of a light, a mist.

I smell sun on wet shoulders,

Areola on the tongue,

Wet honey on a petal,

“Yes.”

-

It’s been forever since I’ve written anything of worth, but somehow this just flowed out of my hand this afternoon, inspired by a mysterious whiff of honeysuckle and reading a lot of Red Dynamite. Still a little iffy though, being so new, so please, please review, even to say it sucked. All ink is good ink.

-J