P i e c e s

It's 3 AM—

Clumsy kisses have me contemplating
forest nymphs and the ages old
coffee cup resting on my night stand.

( why was it exactly
that I let you touch me? )

It's 3:14 AM—

Sex and Sexuality is a funny thing,
like these poetic new age philosophies
that I sprout from tongue and teeth.

I loved a Pieces once.

We were graveyard lust,
screaming to any god
or goddess who might be listening.

It's 3:32 AM—

You spilled coffee
all over these overheated bedsheets.
And I laughed:
stale heavens and
stale Pieces do not compare
to the one I lost.