Courtesy: Pixabay

The air wasn’t there…
she breathed rhapsody.
Touch lingered in quivering echo,
ecstasy holding tight.

Gossamer strands of light,
lips caressing.
Intimacy with rays.
Discovering what it was to feel.

Had she become real?
Lacerating had been bleeding herself alive.
Hope’s fingertip healed scars,
another kiss said she wasn’t alone.

©March 2020, Christina Anne Hawthorne

About Christina Anne Hawthorne

Alive and well in the Rocky Mountains. I'm a fantasy writer who also dabbles in poetry, short stories, and map making. My Ontyre tales are an alternative fantasy experience, the stories rich in mystery, adventure, and romance. Alternative fantasy? Not quite steampunk. Not quite gothic. In truth, the real magic is in those who discover what's within.
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2 Responses to Real

  1. Love love love Midnight Cowboy 😍

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