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Shorties
We take the back wall for a shitty
movie in the middle of a Sunday
Things happen
You wear a dress that makes me
ache like a fever
I
go
down
Your popcorn buttered fingers slip off the
handles and into my hair
as if you need to know what I am doing
You don't
You drive home
today's mess still clings to your thighs like
wet hair
and I go home
with a slick grin
because I know you're going to call me tomorrow
:) so many solid
:) so many solid lines!!!!!
I would suggest removing the line "you don't" and maybe changing tense of the today's mess line "today's mess clung to your thighs like my hair"
:/ I do feel the ending isn't as strong as the rest of the poem though :( not sure how to make it tornger though...
I really love your work!
Much Love
Ashley