An hour to dedicate to her thoughts,
Absorb them, then erupt with the images
she has filled herself with, temporary
relief of the dirtiness that intimacy
had become, a trade of the deceit,
humiliation, next few hours
experimentation, passion.
Filled her mind with unreal images,
Photographs of an interlude she did not have
But convinced her mind for a short while
That she was there and could be, then at home
He put out her fire, doused with water
When it should have been saturated with wine.

by Lorene Kinsey

Comments (0)

There is no comment submitted by members.