Black
slippery silk
as cool as
nightfall
Drapes
across
the bed .
Not far
from heated sighs
And the sound
Of a silver zipper
quickens
Shortly before
flesh meets
flesh .
A
scream
echoes
down the hall .
Is it he
or is it she ?
Now laying
in the wet spot
On the floor .
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Octopoem #5
Posted by Carlus Wilmot at 6:11 PM
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