NaPoWriMo Day 6

[You gripped my hand]

You gripped my hand
and waltzed into my mind,
dusting away spiders
that dared to spin webs.
Your fingers brushed
synapses, they fire
faster now.  Your eyes
are a paintbrush,
spreading ideas
like fire across
my cerebral cortex.

I’m not sure this particularly poem is done.  I had a sinister end in mind, but I just couldn’t make it work at this point.  Maybe if I let the poem rest for a bit I’ll magically get the twisted end that I wanted.

~Laura

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