Author Information
hung out to dry
Folder:
little bird i like to think
no
i wish i could think
to not imagine and know
that you are wilting
when you think of me
drenched in desire
like the persistent drizzle
that cancels the plans to
vacuum the pool
but holds hope for the bedroom
after a bit of push and pull
where one of us ends up
in the pond of pleasure
i like to think
that this is just a poem
that leads to the next
called 'drenched in desire'
and your panties are drying
on the back of a chair
with a sliver of hope
that you are soaked in
an artesian flow of craving
