Spaghetti strap
I’m always supposed to hate.

The way the sun
smudges skin
indicating all the
parts I passed.

Tips of shoulders, apples of cheeks
all the flesh the cream missed
science revealed prevented touch
but is that what I want?

I love overlapping stripes
collarbone neckline
beach trips bike rides
touched by heat
imprinted in memory like a
human photo album.

Stories woven by hours in
golden light
and when it goes all there’s left
the crunch of leaves
damp dew
grey gravel
steamed milk
atmosphere smeared dark.

7 thoughts on “2

  1. The way your words leads one to acknowledge emotional values untouched by the sun, imagination plays havoc……what a nice way to capture the mind of the reader drawing them into the secret world of fantasy.

    Liked by 2 people

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