"Kept on writing"

Mahogany Smiles
Nov 13, 2025
1 min read

A story,

Her navel plays a page

My tongue spills saliva ink onto.

Her skin, soft and thin, Doesn't tear when damp.

She floats down gently on top of the grass blades, Lays on her bare back,

Manages to fight the wind from carrying her a stray,

She remains silent,

Prefers to hear the scribbles,.

With no lines to cross, She is art within existing, I trace over her collar,

Pray she doesn't find a way to erase The sonnets.

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