- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Between My Legs
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I hear she only writes when she's fucked. The oohs and ahhs. He dyed his hair. I looked over sideways and told him I'd braid it. The implication of him sitting between my legs; his skin on my thin skin. L'Oreal #9.3. My eyes like quarter moons and a little guilt about the way it all went down in my mind. We made sure he understood the gravity of the situation. My brother's discomfort and jokes about truth. Nobody sends for her unless things get serious. Brother says to the stranger, it isn't me you should worry about. She laughs like Bettie Rubble but it is all coffin nails and machetes. She's our peacekeeper. I'm just warning you.
Smile
- COMMENTS
muxDaemonalmost 7 years agoI feel like there's some context missing here... just enough to be tantalizing. Nice :)
