Contributor: Jan Aubrey

- -
He runs bronzed fingers
through my hair
while I sleep.
He holds my delicate face
in his hands and kisses
my lips...
Pausing, he says,
To smell the sweetness
of skin.
He presses his hard body
against mine with a
gentle force and whispers
Wiccan spells that mend
my broken self.
But when I lay like the sea
beneath him,
spread out and split open,
His green eyes turn brown,
Blonde hair melts into black
and it's your face I see.
Because only you
set fire
to
the
stars.


- - -
Jan Aubrey studied Fine Arts at UW Milwaukee, Wisconsin and has been writing poetry for three years. She presently lives in the inner city of Milwaukee.