It was this time of year, when evenings warm and
tadpoles crawl ashore, when your green eyes,
unholy lit, tethered me. Searing me everywhere
your touch lingered, grinning,
your gaze never left mine.
You wanted everything then,
as you smudged me in your filth.
image: “Skin on Skin Love and Burning Passion,” by CORinAZONe
Mish is today’s host for dVerse’ Quadrille. Mish says:
We are writing poems of exactly 44 words, excluding the title BUT it must include a given word. Today, I give you the word …..“smudge“