deepundergroundpoetry.com

red wine for the soul

He had the kind of voice that left me
with a hankering for red wine
every time his tongue overflowed with longing

And it would have taken a miracle
for his hands to ever get past
the lines of my panties
though his voice had carried its way
into my cunt many times before
my crossed legs the only indication
that I had something to hide

Yet no amount of sweet talking
could have made me love him more
than “just friends”
though he tried – in his whore-like way
to bend my will to jealousy

Countless empty bottles spent
to weaken my cross-legged resolve
that never resulted in the desired effect
with me crying on his shoulder
that I was loveless and unlovable
contrary to the shoulder that caught my tears

© Indie Adams 2012
Indie
Written by Indie (Miss Indie)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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