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Secret of the Shift Key
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I Walk Naked Into a Cloud
If there is a beginning
it is from the ending of our vows.
In a flock of words I mumble some
sort of an answer to the endless questions
you keep asking me.
There is one way or no way
and every other way is
false hope in an
uncurled midnight stairway.
Candles will not burn for they
lack wicks and so they are picked up
and fondled for
the memories they
seem to represent.
I always have the same dream
when I am
sleeping on the couch.
In it my jumping eyes
flow to your hips.
They take in your breasts
bubbling in your bra.
I fantasize about making love
to you on the floor.
Rough and ready, no
sweet talk or music
or foreplay.
Just drop you down and
force me in.
My pleasure is
all the justification
I'll need to supply.
I graze the back of your neck
with a knife.
I title you "WORDSMITH" An
I title you "WORDSMITH" An exceptional piece here!!! Great writing,
Vive le Quebec libre!