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a draper is someone who creates garments or patterns by draping fabric directly onto a dress form (Wikipedia)
~~~~
I am a draper,
by trade, by nature, by instinct;
a fling of one arm across her body,
while she dreams and sleeps, rambles, mumbles,
and even convulses,
to hold her tight with two, with both,
soon grows discomforting as the blood ceases to flow,
the heat breeds unsweetened sweat,
and the snuggling impact,
is too fast subsumed by the pins and needles
numbing, deadening,
and ironical attenuation

this is my pattern,
how I address her,
how I dress her,
draping my contiguous,
drawing five fingers
upon her form,
reshaping her in her sleep,
the arm flung, there, and then
there,
to be hung,
at varied places across her body,
higher lower, above below,
but her face,
free and clear,
so not to interfere
with her sensory preceptors

and as I draw my pattern upon her skin,
her body whole,
listening her to indeterminate utterances,
to determine
which
pitter patter pattern
to which.
she feels best suited,

then,
I prepare my
invoice
for her,
for services rendered,
to present upon awakening,
demanding
in voice,
by her voice,
payment in words,
of her own chosen
amuse-bouche,

mmmm, will it be?

good morning my love?
hello you!
or just an indiscriminate
but yet,
a discriminating
sound of
having been pleasured
by unknown forces
in her deeper sleep, using her lips
to say, to hum, to sing,
a genteel unspecific
but, and yet, a
terrific,
deep from within
guttural remittance,
the sound of a delicious,

mmmmmming
greeting
a new equinoxal gale
of a refreshing fresh
birthing, fulsome
already satisfying
draping of the
day
S K Anderson Jan 2019
COLLAB. WITH AUSTIN DRAPER

It’s little more than a quiet thought.
The impending feeling that the loneliness
was a creation of my own imploding self-conscious.
I wouldn’t have hurt you voluntarily,
so what outside force could know my mind so well?

It’s little more than a spoken word.
The rumble of the oncoming storm could be felt
from as close as 1.6 miles away,
where the darkness of your room invaded the
not-so secret spots of your heart.

I’m prone, to the truth in your words.
I’m not used to the idea of confronting my thoughts
And sorting them out to you.
Is it that I spoke wrong words? Or I stopped before they meant anything?
You mean so much, and now you are out of my reach.
I did the first two stanzas and Austin did the third. I really like it, it's the first poetry collaboration I've done.
***
Trevon Haywood Oct 2015
a nicest girl I've ever remembered.
she's a photographer because she likes to take pictures.
Also, she's from Medina, New York located in Gennesse County and she always loves rainy days.
Anyways, i love Amber Draper because she is so beautiful just like me.
I wish i can be her friend someday in the summer of 2016.

Anonymous.
Best friend

— The End —