One Night Stand

It’s beautiful

the stranger’s touch

the feel of skin

‘neath fingers, tongue

the taste

of human being:

 

a tangled web

of laughter, love, of

tears that tapestry

the definition of

a now forgotten name.

 

A piece of broken soul

– dislodged

by yes-you-may

and tender touch –

searches in vain

for know-you doors

to darkened, unknown mindscape.

 

And finding none,

the soul retreats, draws

muscle, ribs,

and heart and blood

about itself to watch,

detached,

this game of raw desire.

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2 thoughts on “One Night Stand

    1. Well, that’s an interesting effect. Not exactly what I had in mind, but then, poetry should be something different to every person who reads it.

      Unless this is just, you know, spam.

      /c:

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