Sparkling night of nervous love
with the pleasure
of flutters in waiting: in presence of rose
and brighter pink
anticipation created in its likeness
to a blossom,
confident, lovely lace, shine
in growth and openness
to a door locked one-way. I settle into
my delight, with a smile that shouts
fearlessness
and a desire who aches
to be whole. Our time
contained by glass orbs
in their obligated task, a job
of pleasing woe.
The shiver of new life
I accede into mine, from vanilla light exposed
on a young girl’s breast,
to leafy salads savored by
an immaculate mouth.
Glass orb I implore you:
hold tight my moment—this lost confidence
of snow,
wetting as rain,
blessing me with presents I must give away.