I lie to myself
about my intentions.
I’m reduced
to chasing blind frustration.
But tonight,
I’ll slip into her sheets
when she’s fast asleep.
The rope around my pride poisoned
me with distorted memories
from her lips, wanting her hips.
She turns; throws the covers off,
giving me a death stare that cascades
a tidal wave of inertia
between her crinkled eyes.
“Fuck me with passion,
or leave this house in ashes,” she said.
I gave in but got burned, anyway.
Twitter – @AC0040
(© 2022 AC)
Drink Coffee Write 