My loss of words
This is your sole
opportunity
If you were a knife
You would spread thinly like
butter
That melts into your voice
All over the floor
A slippery handshake
Warms right into my veins
While the pulse builds down
Into my back and my feet
Giving righteous energy
To turn and lose my way
How could you, handsome sir?
How can I think straight?
While you chase my behind
All over the place
Shaking my senses with your
face
You enjoy this too much
You won’t go away
Do I enjoy this too much?
I have nothing to say.
-Copyright ©2000 K. Monge'