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




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

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running_with_rabbits's picture

:) 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