YOUR POEM OF THE WEEK
YOUR POEM
You’re 6’1 in heels
so we’re almost eye-to-eye
in the vestibule, you tell me
how you need it so bad
I run a finger from your clavicle
down through your knees
and spin you round
You’re wall-facing
I lift your skirt
and put my hands around your waist
I stand behind you and bite your neck
soon the day will be gone,
with the night still left
for us to work through
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