i'm feeling like an etch- a -sketch
the way your fingers move me.
twirling, spinning
twisted inside.
look at me. what do you see?
is it me you love
or something that you've made?
we've created something new.
pushing, pulling all the right buttons
you know how to turn me
on.
forever marked by the touch of your hands
until i am shaken
by your callous disregard
then everything is erased
forgotten
until you touch me again
gentle hands
drawing on me
drawing me in.
9 comments:
Wow, reen. Wow. That was good . . . and erotic. I've got to say (as I'm sure I've said before - I'm jealous of your ability - but also thankful for it. ;) ) And, is there something you're not telling me???
i wouldn't call that erotic. it's not like i said anything about the etch-a-sketch moaning (gross i know). it's about how even the simplest human touch can move you. but interpret it as you like, that's what poetry is for n'est pas.
you are not old enough to have erotic etch-a-sketche thoughts!
i am so not ready for this.
oh my.
like i said, this poem is not erotic!! you ppl just have dirty minds. GEESH.
oh. i totally didn't read your response to charlene. but i have to say, it does seem like an erotic poem at first glance regardless of the cleanliness of the reader's mind.
but i like your take on it better. i firmly believe that we were made with a need for touch from our first days on this earth to our last.
who were you thinking of when you wrote this piece?
Post you transitorized tormentor...POST!!!
dear clown full of tears,
post something.
geesh.
I didn't get erotic outta that.
I got friggen good writing though.
Looking through all your past posts and poetry(?) now... i hope you have hard copies of all your works elsewhere...really good stuff.
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