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Click hereHidden beneath the shame of a turtleneck sweater
Glaring, blotchy strawberry of a kiss
Little do you know what put you there
Or what you stand for
(A brand of regret that whispers, “Whore”
So near my ear.)
Little do you remember the questing lips
That breathed you hotly into existence,
Nor the chill you inspired, for a moment
Before shame set in, discoloring you
A patch of skin, the blot of sin
Adorning this virgin neck
You pulse there, ugly truth,
Making me naked in my mortification
Whenever my hand brushes up, blushing,
To cover you.
hickey tune in what definitely carries the stigma that it has....nice job........don
and I thought, "why not?" and so I read it. I'm glad I did. The content of the poem surpasses the title by far. A provocative and somehow alluring take on one of necking's "hush hush" aftermaths. Nicely done, kephera.
Vixxx