Pregnant moon- By Short prose

you come up from dark waters

creeping blue flowers drape my body

their scents like heavy chains

pull you toward me.

the moon gets pregnant with desires

your hands get lost into my hair

my body now a rope of sand

tolling the waves like a church bell.

*

No one can stifle the sound of the waves.

https://shortprose.blog/2018/01/29/pregnant-moon-poetry/

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