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A Lover Of Sorts

He gives me that look
and I know what's coming.

I set down my book and we get to it.
For this long together we are better

than most. But lying there with him,
I lie, there, with him.

As a sunrise of lamplight crests
the timberline of his balding skull,

I experiment with words in exotic positions
rolling them, naked on my paper brain

until there is nothing more to say,
no ink left in the pen,

and we reach across each other
only to turn out the light.

User Rating: 5,0 / 5 ( 6 votes ) 6

Comments (6)

Uh huh, done that. Just wonderful. Lori. More, please... Regards, Don
Holy hell. This is staggering. Gems one after the other.
A masterful write, Lori... hope your brain never runs out of paper. Brian
Another beautifully written poem. Just wonderful! ~Ray
I gave it a 10, I thought it was going in a diffrent direction, , , , , Than what I anticipated
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