PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

8-22-04

5:27 am



There are on my chest.

These things I call pecs.

They call them tits.

I suppose that is what they are.

At least for now.

But from afar.

No one knows what I hide.

But my body reminds me.

It reminds me what I hide.

I hide tits.

To make pecs.

But the tits remind me.

Of what lies beneath.

Beneath the binder.

Lays a painful lump of flush.

Times two of course.

Cause one is never enough.

So I hide it.

And they remind me.