12-05-2023, 08:37 AM
Between the sheets there is a scent of a different love.
Soft lip and molten tongue. You caress my ample waist
without a grimace. Kiss with misplaced passion
and mint breath, perhaps to fog a memory of a lover?
You fold linen and launder clothes with the zeal
of a bribing child. I wonder if this love will ever slither
out of its cellophane skin. You scurry in the kitchen
and lather eggs onto a plate, yellow and unctuous.
Yesterday’s dinner sits cold on the counter.
The lines between your relentless texts sidle
into confessions. Words gather like foam
over tepid coffee.
Inside this mirage, love is nourished by illusion
and buries the question for a different day.
Soft lip and molten tongue. You caress my ample waist
without a grimace. Kiss with misplaced passion
and mint breath, perhaps to fog a memory of a lover?
You fold linen and launder clothes with the zeal
of a bribing child. I wonder if this love will ever slither
out of its cellophane skin. You scurry in the kitchen
and lather eggs onto a plate, yellow and unctuous.
Yesterday’s dinner sits cold on the counter.
The lines between your relentless texts sidle
into confessions. Words gather like foam
over tepid coffee.
Inside this mirage, love is nourished by illusion
and buries the question for a different day.