caged poet

i hear the time between the ticks grow longer
and wonder if his rough hand glides gently up her thigh
as i scribble lonely
one tiny letter at a time
L
O
N
E
L
Y
is she moist
allowing those rough paws inside
does her head tilt and her breath sharpen
as he sips upon her fleshy twin darts
does that genie rise as smoke through nostrils slowly flaring
pleasures i will never know or be allowed to give
for darkness stale and thick
pierced only by flickering pixels
that leave no tans
or sift through ocean air to comb locks and brush skins
to ache confined by the tether of her will
allow only vowels scream
and elusive dreams
of relief dangled like a charm
resting in her artful cleavage
that she removes
and places on the dresser
along with not even a distant thought of me