you've got a way of

sending any semblance of sensible thought

skidding pell-mell from my brain,

but i'll be damned if i end up

another footnote to your conquests

"can you hold on, hold tight, hold it right


i nodded but i should have

headed straight for the door

because it was calling me,

(yawning wide and i am open)


its voice was sweeter than

yours, anyway.

you talking to me is

rough cotton rubbing raw on

my woolen winter sweater,

scratchy edges like your throat

is calloused.

my mouth is too soft.

i keep my words velveteen, to match.

thumbing through snapshots

(our bond was thin, even then)

your face is a moon shadow half as bright

and half as beautiful-

your light is merely

the sun's reflection.

You Thief.

You really had me