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A poem is never finished, only abandoned.  ~Paul Valéry
Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.  ~Carl Sandburg
Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn.  ~Thomas Gray
Poetry is not always words.  ~Audrey Foris
Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.  ~Edgar Allan Poe

 

Beyond Blue Eyes
2003-11-01 - 10:39 p.m.
______________________________

As I sit on my hands, as they tell you to do

I calmly watch her breasts swinging fro and to

Inches from my face, begging me to taste...

Quivering leg muscles from dancing on stilletos

Sweaty palms gently caress my hair

She was always able to keep my attention.

I can still smell her, the scent of hot cocoa

I never understood how she did that

It was all I could do not to lick her

To see if she tasted as good as she smelled.

I keep my eyes narrowed to protect from the smoke

Permeating the air, seeping into my clothes

Her ass fills my vision, small tattoo on one cheek

Begging me to smack it.

My hands tremble with the need to touch

But the bouncer is standing too near

I bite my lip with the effort to remember where we are..

She sits on my lap, I can feel the heat

The heat of her sex warming my legs

And she rubs my face in her cleavage.

I can see beyond her blue eyes

Yes I can.

raw || truth
______________________________
Past Memories:

2006-01-13 - Fear In My Skin
2006-01-10 - The Moon - Our Silent Audience
2005-12-14 - Promise
2005-12-11 - Pure Bliss
2005-08-31 - In This Grave