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treasure
human cocoon
blanket wrapped
almost not breathing
slowed down to yoga
but eyes open
following
me
me
pacing
circular moves
homing in on the
glitter in your gaze
open book open face
a hand on a naked arm
wriggles from within free
and beckons a finger
come hither baby
to empty mattress
next to
you
you
drive me crazy
stop that stirring up
the place, you say
and lift your face
to inevitably pull me
home into your tranquil
sunday morning bubble
by serene warm will alone
let me savor those eyes
one demon at the time
you could battle
to rescue
me
I don't see the structure eroding: I like the transition from individual to shared experiences over the poem and felt that permitted some structural change. The pyrimids, in fact, are more thematic than the title as they recall lumps in the bedcovers: perhaps a better title comes from them.
...if you're going to abandon them? The structure seemed to erode with each verse. Still, like the tombs of Egypt, you hid treasure:
"let me savor those eyes
one demon at the time"
Thanks for the read, Liar.