On the Cusp

Spring borrowed from winter
daffodils hang their heads
crumple with a colour of cut apple
held by the gas fire

I dream of you coming home
to candle flames
and red wine
smell moonflowers on your neck

warmed by your carotid
I feel your pulse against my kiss
and rest my hand
in the nest of your back.

– Benjamin F Jones
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About Graphite Bunny

I am a writer working in South Wales (UK). I love pizza, photography and moist clay. When it rains I catch drops in my open mouth. I create poetry, flash, absurdist snapshots and humorous fiction.
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13 Responses to On the Cusp

  1. Mark Thomas says:

    You are one of brightest, sweetest people I have been lucky enough to meet. This is brilliant Ben.

  2. David Eric Cummins says:

    That’s awesome! I love it.

  3. Eve Redwater says:

    “Spring borrowed from winter
    daffodils hang their heads
    crumple with a colour of cut apple
    held by the gas fire”

    This is a gorgeous opening stanza!
    Love the poem. πŸ˜€

  4. That’s so, so, so romantic. Thanks for sharing and cheering πŸ™‚

  5. I like it. “the color of cut apples” is my favorite line I think…..a very tender love poem and I am a sentimental fool:D

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