Sunday 31 August 2014

Poem: Slur

You were cold
so you put on your fur
before leaving for the bar
and for unknown reason
I opened your purse
fingered keys
wondering if I would have to say
please,
draped in perfume
on your return
I slided over
'nice tits'
bunching your lips
you stood
leaving me the sight
of your hips
walk through the door

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