Thursday, June 2, 2011

Sheets -- Poetry 2011

Don’t know why I’m back

to thinking about him under

the sheets; alone in the dark,

churning up passion’s past

brings a quiet moan from dry lips.

Muscle memories of rocking…

locked oneness in eager gyrations

finishing limp from release …

best parts of communion before

disintegrating to substandard regards

turned touch sour,

turned love to hate,

turned life inside out

leaving dry dreams

without relief…


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