2006.
The spring awakens a desire for romance within- a primal calling
A hunger that is great and real.
Tangled limbs, a bearded face buried in oat colored hair,
the smell of Bradford pears and hot breath that leaves droplets of vapor in the neck.
Sticky,
sweet,
savoring body salt.
Taught skin over protrusive hipbones.
My sternum will not be quiet.
Beaded scallops lie
limply off my
little breasts.
Expensive lace panties cannot flatter what they
do not fit.
And I will never understand why,
at a time when the morning sun tasted like a citrus rind,
waking up next to you with greasy hair and
unexplained bruises made me feel, for once,
Beautiful.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment