Poetry

Pressing Skin

By Darkkin

Pressing Skin

Skin pressing skin, dance upon eggshells, delicate ice.
Soul touching sole, stretched, wearing critically thin.
One fall, again, marks twice. Damn fool; trying thrice.

Tchaikovsky’s cygnet in crumpled tulle, pride the price
for the chance, that thrice damned to begin once again.
Skin pressing skin, dance upon eggshells, delicate ice.

Svelte in indigo gloam, head high, those lines concise.
Soul speaking through soles that cling, a second skin.
One fall, again, marks twice. Damn fool; trying thrice.

Grey down drifting, that lowly cygnet in steps precise,
twirling amid burgeoning snow, a light waking within.
Skin pressing skin, dance upon eggshells, delicate ice.

Tide rising; fireflies and hoar lilies, blossom and entice,
beckoning to the wary cygnet; a journey about to begin.
One fall, again, marks twice. Damn fool; trying thrice.

It was a dance to the voice of sweet, white edelweiss,
Tchaikovsky’s cygnet, determination writ toes to chin.
Skin pressing skin, dance upon eggshells, delicate ice.
One fall, again, marks twice. Damn fool; trying thrice.

***

About the author:
An internet ghost with too much education and a love of the ridiculous.

Read more poetry by Darkkin

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Created in 2014, Flashes is a privately owned literary website. We publish short stories, non-fiction, flash fiction and poetry. Our goal is to give talented writers a platform to showcase their creativity, with an emphasis on original voice, innovative style and challenging plots.

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