deepundergroundpoetry.com
the fork on the spoon
sometimes i imagine the way
his touch
would feel upon my skin,
his breath
would feel upon my neck,
his tongue
against my teeth-
then i bite my own
as i stare him down from the left side of the bed.
I cross my legs...
i must always remember
to not run too far
with my imagination.
his touch
would feel upon my skin,
his breath
would feel upon my neck,
his tongue
against my teeth-
then i bite my own
as i stare him down from the left side of the bed.
I cross my legs...
i must always remember
to not run too far
with my imagination.
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