deepundergroundpoetry.com
Ghosts of Past Lovers
He rubs my feet, sore from work, and
blows cool air across my toes.
I lie waiting for his kisses up my leg,
never sure which he’ll choose.
Will ghosts of past lovers
stir in their graves
with their memories of touching
a younger me? When his tongue
arrives at my sheath, will I think of
those who've come before?
From a frame over my lover's shoulder,
his dead wife looks on
with a hint of jealousy
I find intriguing.
blows cool air across my toes.
I lie waiting for his kisses up my leg,
never sure which he’ll choose.
Will ghosts of past lovers
stir in their graves
with their memories of touching
a younger me? When his tongue
arrives at my sheath, will I think of
those who've come before?
From a frame over my lover's shoulder,
his dead wife looks on
with a hint of jealousy
I find intriguing.
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