Friday, February 19, 2010

A young man of extra-ordinary personal beauty

Witching hour
taps on the door
Memories
of your last night
assertively
creep into bed
Haunting the left side
sliding closer
between every
suppressed e x h a l e
The faint smell
of bourbon
filling space
between the pillow
and my bitter cheek
That space
your face
pressed against mine


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