Lost Words


I mislaid a lover’s
poem tonight,
now undone
over wireless files,
from the members’ club
to my short-lived home,
I dropped my file,
those words have gone,
my lust-spews lost,
on the internet-blown:
What of that construct
can I now re-build,
in these night hours,
with time to kill?
A recall of her squat
tight compressions,
over my thighs,
tugged into her heaven,
and my pained hands
on her flattenedĀ breasts:
I now type fast,
to hold those behests:
Tonight I’ll dream
of us still fumbling,
fingering and buried,
ever French-kissing,
but all those breaths
are a short frustration,
we’ll lose the lines
in waking’s translation:
I was stood naked
on an unnamed road,
and her lost poem
there folded, still unknown.


 

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