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    totallyy
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Rhymes - 15. Limits.

Your lips tasted sweet on mine: dry and cracked:

The fissures running through my self-esteem,

Nourishing the thirsty, fallen and wrecked,

Evoking emotions: a foreign dream.

 

Darkness stretched beyond the vast horizons

And unrestrained into the wayward past

Whence a glimmer of your crooked smile burns

Through its unrelenting hold: turned to dust.

 

I once feared small places, suffocating

Spaces full of air quiet, still and stale

But your arms: a prison I stay willing,

Reading the marks left on your skin in braille.

 

But my weight bears down on that sturdy frame

There’s a limit to your strength, all the same.

Poetry Prompt 9 - Sonnet
Copyright © 2016 totallyy; All Rights Reserved.
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Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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There is a back and forth disquiet about this sonnet that is compelling. It seems the lover's presence is a good thing, and then it's not. Perhaps the entire poem is about the process of letting one trust another person fully. I think that's conveyed brilliantly.

 

Also brilliant is the image of goose bumps being the Braille that a beloved's fingers can read – love that image! So fantastic!

 

Thanks for looking at the sonnet form again, and for succeeding at making smoother-flowing quatrains. I appreciate all your hard work and efforts!

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