tagNon-Erotic Poetrypersistence of perversity

persistence of perversity


I tore out the last page of your book.
I broke the hands off of your watch.
I picked the scab so the sore won’t heal.
I’m hoping what I can’t see I can’t feel.

Your last beer is still in the fridge.
Your boots are resting on my window ledge.
Your photos are saved in my cell phone.
What’s not there is not coming home.

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bysandyb© 2 comments/ 1016 views/ 1 favorites

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