In the dark
I grip it
Thinking you can’t see,
One hand with fingers
Spread around it,
Other hand holding the phone
With you on the other end
I grip too tightly
Until the tip turns red,
All decadent
Hard and throbbing,
An ache that makes
Me breathe harder, too,
Which I think
You might hear
Even in the dark,
Your ability to sense movement,
The up and down of it,
The pain that gets worse
Before it gets better,
Up and down,
While I dream of
In and out,
And you
On the other side.
No comments:
Post a Comment