Ask me no questions.

January 29, 2009 at 8:16 pm (Uncategorized)

I touch your face
in bed,
the morning after,
and speak of ownership.
A tease.
As you bristle
involuntarily,
I make a joke
and giggle,
so as not to
alert your
reflex of flight.

Traipsing around the
foot of the bed,
I touch yours.
And trace your silhouette
up the slight curve
of your long body.
You smile your smile.
“I like that,”
you say.
But you
don’t
feel
me.

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I am not enough.

January 9, 2009 at 9:56 am (Uncategorized)

Why does it hurt
that you finally agree
with what I’ve been telling you
all
along?

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