March 06, 2012
I'm taking the day off from posting to go to a local bookstore and just think about writing, maybe write down a thought or two. Sometimes it's important to just live... in order to have something to write about.
Blistered Thought
There are red
blisters rising up from inside my head.
They itch,
they throb a doorknob dull sort of pain
that begs me
to scratch at them... and of course I do.
I remember
you shaved your legs once
leaving tiny
cuts along your shin and
thin splinters
of blonde hair in the bathtub.
Your limbs
looked less like legs, more like forbidden fruits,
oddly shaped
pears my tongue couldn’t help but lick
into submission.
The back of
my neck grasped by your tiny hands,
you slipped
your tongue between my teeth,
mine fought
back with wet stabs to the inside
of your
overly dry mouth. We both smiled.—rrw 3-3-12
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