I
touch my bruises blue and black
echos
the sound of a hard whack
memories
of the things we do
licking
my lips I think of you
slight
rope burns on ankles and wrist
licking
my lips I think of you
you
pounded my chest with your fist
I
can take it that much you knew
wasn't
long and I was throbbing
between
your legs I was bobbing
licking
my lips I think of you
I
relive each moment that's true
licking
my lips I think of you
your
taste on the tip of my tongue
and
how one plus one equals two
you're
a song waiting to be sung
Copyright
© 2015 by Patrick B Vince
Kyrielle
Poem
No comments:
Post a Comment