Monthly Archives: September 2010

Yield

apple orchard eyes gaze up
at leafy dappled skies
golden canopied reverie
sleepy head lies


blonde hair spread on thighs


apple orchard smiles wrapped up
in silky ribbon ties
swathed in autumn’s fragrant blanket
late summer’s demise


bundled up in sighs


apple orchard kiss given
to russet moistened lips
abundant ripe fruit offering
succulent rose hips


sweet September bliss


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Miss

Miss his voice; no choice some days, but to make do, with electronic flat on the page make me want to rage words, cursing a cursor that blinks, stupid fucking emoticon winks and kisses, wonder if he misses my wet pink lips and the way his name slips through my teeth beneath sleep, between tangled sheets where limbs caffle and soft feet meet.

Miss his arms; what harm would it do, to feel skin on skin, feel him within, me, feel something more than seven hours of foot to the floor, mile upon mile of motorway tarmac holding us back, holding on to carbon black starless night, fight or flight, need to get to him, need to get into his bed, into his head, need to walk into the room and knock him dead.


Miss his eyes; no lies within, he’s just straight walking straight talking “want to get my fingers jaywalking over your body baby,” no small talk no crawl talk just want to fuck you up against the wall talk, “don’t want to play games, just want to hear you scream my name, want to make you come insane while you look into my eyes, again and again.” Yeh, that’s it, that’s what I miss.


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Mojito

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