- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Rachel
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If the ocean was fire, her hair is what it would look like at night.
If the plants under the clearest water I’ve ever seen in the streams of the Northwest
an electric green full of wonder
could be distilled into a dark fluid, cooked into a jewel, and shattered into a million glittering shards,
it would barely hold a candle to her eyes.
If God had a couch where you could go to recline and have your souls wounds healed,
A soft but firm chaise lounge, pink, and welcoming.
A place where you felt safe, and never wanted to leave,
You’d come close to her lips.
The hardest you’ve ever laughed,
Winded and filled with that familiar
ache, hardwired emotional overload as with love and joy and grief.
Her smile and laughter emanate all this, infectious and irresistible.
I’m sorry, I simply don’t have words for her heart.
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