I chose not to elaborate
on the dream I had of you
Where our skin was lit by
static on a rabbit-eared TV
Where I clutched your
knees as if I were falling
and held your legs apart,
intent on making you writhe
like a fever-struck child
My Summer to Remember,
the ring you wear lacks
any magic to ward off
the things you know
I'm capable of imagining
I like this. sexual and romantic both
ReplyDelete