Greenhouse Tastes

The air tickles this place,
longing to touch this warmth,
as it has the rest of this world.
The heat lamps spark,
sending the hose inventory evanescencing
across hands.
The fingers spring loose at the touch,
budding in your grasp,
because they always longed to please you.
So they breathe and wisp,
as their nature intends,
in the humid solidity.
She sits in this heat-
bubbled blooms around her
while outside torrents bang the glass,
desiring a taste of the greenhoused flavor.


Philosophia said...

This is intensely beautiful! I'm looking forward to reading more of you. :)

mckenzie. said...

lovely, you are such a brilliant poet, dear! I hope you have been well. xx

Anonymous said...

You inspire me. <3

Ever said...

Philosophia: You are lovely, dear, thank you for following!

mckenzie: You are an amazing writer, I love the images you use. They are always encompassing and enchanting, even when I don't understand what you poems mean.
I have been much better, thank you!

Bella: Thank you so! You inspire me, dearest, more than you can possibly imagine... I hope you've been doing better.