She likes to peel off


Of bottles or cups.
She has a twitch,
Making nervous the eyebrow.
A beautiful suffering.
Ready to unfold.
Balance ~ Imbalance.
A familiar situation.
Your choice was then
To be open,
But to receive
No welcome.
The same doors
Of fluid love
Enchants you now,
Its sweet nectar
Jamming your nostrils,
The veil ridden disaster,
Out of reach,
With reason.
It’s black magic?


~ by Aquatic Poetry on August 25, 2011.

2 Responses to “Choice”

  1. Really like how you’ve written this poem.

  2. Thank you. 🙂 ~

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