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| Is it or isn't it me? I'll never tell! |
That's right. Another day has come and gone and I'm stuck here with this poem. So far my poems have failed to attract any scantily clad women -- at least they haven't attracted them to me. For all I know, you girls are reading my poems, tearing off your clothes and ravishing the first man that knocks on your door.
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| Thanks! Now about switching your cable provider .... |
So, I'm going to try again.
LUST
You taste like Saturday night,
with a hint of Sunday confession.
Everything lingers,
trails of smoke follow your touch
and I burn.
I finally have time to rhyme,
ReplyDeletenow that the basement is layered with lime.
The ringing in my ears,
from the screaming (and my cheers),
faded over time.
And now I'm left with just some bits and lime.
I liked the sound of "taste" juxtaposed with "lust". Tessa
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