His fingers unlace the corset like patterns on my goose pimpled flesh
Weaving his way in to cup the jewel nestling deep within my rib case
The way he moved so soft and slow, setting my cheeks aglow
He whispers ‘you are mine’ and I am undone

The book turns and folds, taking me down twisting alleyways
And grief stricken paths of re-discovery to contemplate life
Death, love and where missing socks really go in the wash
The book ends on a cliff-hanger and I am undone

Thoughts slip and fade away like smoke caught in a net
And things I used to remember have become a distant memory
The harder I try to grasp and cling to these sad truths

Makes it all the more likely that my mind is undone.

Little Ginge x


4 thoughts on “Undoing

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