Bitterness
November 5, 2009
Bitterness recalls the tender touch of his lips upon my thigh.
FULLY MATURED,
FINEST QUALITY,
BLENDED SCOTCH WHISKY stains the sleeve.
I hold the unwashed linen to my nose
and inhale the fragrant residue of passion
left uncured.
The shirt, forgotten,
tossed aside,
is a totem for the heart’s delight.
Entry Filed under: Eroticism, Masculinity, Poetry. .
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