remember this
Oh and you, with your dangerous mouth.
I cannot even think the color of your eyes,
but your exact mouth better than first fruit
and I cannot imagine anything else.
a thousand and one.
Your mouth the only thing
to make me stop telling stories,
and we knew that to stop telling stories
meant my destruction; I didn’t care.
even clever deceptions and when you whispered
that you missed me I wondered
if it was true or
just a slip of the tongue.
Hot stuff!
Posted by: JV | December 05, 2007 at 05:03 PM
Tricky language. Smart poem.
Posted by: Patricia Harrelson | December 07, 2007 at 06:06 AM
Great as always!
Posted by: Jorja | December 19, 2007 at 06:06 AM