White Flag

your mouth is so close
that I can feel
the warmth
of your breath
smell your last
cup of coffee

we have been circling
each other
for weeks
darting closer
drawing back
unsure of
each other’s signals

the uncertainty
makes me crazy
unable to decide
whether to pull you in
or shove you away

we look like
the two dancers
we saw on stage in Boston
last summer
a lithe, trembling
pas de deux

your scent is in my nose
if you linger here
any longer
motionless
I may bite
draw blood

it is exquisite
torture
this push-pull
between us
molten electricity

the silver cord
connecting us
at times elastic
at times steel
keeps us firmly
in each other’s orbit

I feel like
I might die
if you touch me
and I will
most certainly die
if you do not

are we negotiating
consent
a truce
or surrender?

© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All rights Reserved

 

One comment

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s