Mortaljive: The Rest is Silence

There is no still point in all the Universe, and that is the rock upon which I stand

Thursday, January 23, 2014

My lust, your exhaust

her conversational lover
pulled the winter overlap
he pulled it ever so very hard

she reached for lighters made of glass
they smoked like dancers
engaged in pirouettes

what happens to skin
does it remember your hands
who does its accounting
who keeps it from running away?

she tossed her head aside
blue smoke bowed deeply
that was when her lips made 
him quiver
her red lips
this frozen bronco
he was shaking
he shook away the night



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