Monday, April 12, 2010

a note

and as you glittered in the sunshine. i swept my sweat. panting and heaving. as i carved the curves of your delicate lips. pulsatile wrists. and cold bosom.

but when i walked down through the bushes. i thought of you. and that wintry december evening. the forgiveness. fake. and treachery. dry.

i will await this thanksgiving.