deepundergroundpoetry.com

Shady pretence

as i drain the last with you; those shady piles increasing,
the infinite end as you need my arm but take my top,
I remember where the aftershave fell
and
I feel
safe
as our friends linger in their grave, their branches web your face, they drench the last, encroaching on my sound. That coarse gaze with pimpled serenity, I'd try to match you,
cross my legs but add a twist to my hair in conscience abandonment,
the blind relief of sun to perpetrate my longing.
Written by Mo57
Published
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