Graze

I would mock those hips

Had you not strung me in,

flung me out.

 

My nails would love to scratch your neck

But your flesh is so close, too close

galaxies or centimeters apart.

 

I can’t stomp when you have me

twirling,

When you your arms are bending me

backward,

 

You can’t hear me cuss

in my head

when I exhale and sweat

and my desire

curtains the dread.

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s