I’m Good In Bed, But I’m Better With A Pen

I love when I dream in poetry

It’s happening more often now

A silent grip over my mind

Fingers of words

And feelings and sound

Eyes slightly clearer

A slow, steady beat

Pushing it all forwards.

I love when I think in poetry

Quiet lips in a noisy hallway

A mind turning over itself

Analyzing the dirt in the carpet

And the notch scratched in the door.

I love when I love in poetry

Thoughts so normally filthy

Beautiful and pure

In my unchaste mind

Shaky breath

Sweat and accelerating pulses

Bodies in rhythm and time

But it’s all in love.


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