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literature
Williamsburg
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Literature Text
Standing alone below the thrumming
crazy beautiful
with my heart a hundred miles
north of my body,
my talented heart-memory
remembering
the lips of a nameless woman,
a woman identifiable only
by her heat + roughness.
crazy beautiful
with my heart a hundred miles
north of my body,
my talented heart-memory
remembering
the lips of a nameless woman,
a woman identifiable only
by her heat + roughness.
A little thing written a couple of days ago.
© 2012 - 2024 archelyxs
Comments10
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This feels achingly familiar. "with my heart a hundred miles / north of my body" just resonates. It's like a tiny glimpse, a fleeting look at something so deep it's impossible to fully reach into. Lovely.