Wednesday, 18 April 2018

Wanton hour

Nighttime and the heat is near audible
only to my ears
it exudes from every moment
spent thinking about frozen mirrors
That are frames enshrined in my head
Of images millions
I scorch the pillows
with naked needs
Wisps of smoke
from my shuddering knees
spasming in memories
that I didn't merely imagine
ones I watched of sinful deeds

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