BEVERLY M. COLLINS
Quicksand
Quicksand
He could make your fingertips
crave the softness of a moment,
your brown eyes blind
to heartbreak.
He laughed in the face of thunder
through a storm.
He was ruff in the right way and
smooth when it counted.
All Brilliance, quirky, serious-fun and warm.
He knew his a way around silence.
Hide secrets between raindrops,
fell through hard times and
held dreams of heaven's gate
He had a smile like a warning
that his kiss was habit-forming
He was quicksand and it was too late.
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