Poetry Blogs (boxers)
For Time’s a Thrifty Whore
Boxers round ankles, making murmurs I held you. Kissed you.
A radiator clung to, I heated the bed.
You grabbed my thighs. Eyes undressed me though I was bare.
A smile upturned my mouth.
I memorised every angle, shadow of your face.
Washed my mind of everything except how you’re made.
My finger followed the bones down and lingered there.
Hand in hair you leant to me eyes close...
Wednesday 7th April 2010 12:16 am
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