I knew you would forget your tongue beneath the lace of my panties,
Tangled in those iridescent angel wings made damp by your fluttering whispers and dripping words,
As your wave lapped at my saline shore
On a morning when tears out-salt the sea.
The beach was strewn with drift wood and pockets beneath the sand of captured sunlight
And secrets scrawled on ancient parchment
As you ached your way into that drenched bloody muscle of mine
In silence, in sighs, in salacious symphony
And cut through my flesh and my pounding soul with piercing inky fingers and hungry teeth.
*** This is the final poem in my ‘Drafts’ folder. If I publish any more today, then they were one-offed lol But sometimes those are the best poems. Can’t wait to see what 2021 holds in store, and I am not being sarcastic. Sarcasm is for people not smart enough to be funny, and I am hilarious! But yes… cheers to art and words and creativity and love and new beginnings. Down with the ‘rona and racism and anger and all that stupid shit that ruins everything. Let’s just not be assholes for a little bit… that goes for everyone.. especially those consarned virtue-signalling types… there are so many of those wet blankets around… ugh. Wow… that was a lot…. You’re welcome or sorry… take whichever fits best. 🤣🤣🤣👍 ***