Yard Sale of Thoughts

I cannot gaze upon you 
without the need to swoon.
Your gold leaf hair is a temple
I must kneel before and croon:

Be thee mine, be thee mine, be thee mine, and soon.

For one gentle caress,
I’d pull down the planets,
claw the heavens with my fingernails,
rake down a celestial body
to decorate your room.

For you are worthy of the cosmos,
being both sun and moon.

And I will stay 
in a postulated position
until your covers move, 
so I might taste true heaven
from your native bloom. 

Take what parts of me you will 
in offering;
my body is your boon.


©2024 | K.F. Hartless

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 Art of Irina Vitalievna Karkabi

Jorja Smith “Loving You”