Domina, poetry

Twenty-One

Soft delicate hands
cover my eyes
goose bumps shiver
gentle lips press my ear
“guess who.”
the words tickle my ear.
I turn and press my lips against hers

“I was another person.”

I look down
a kiss
That’s not enough,…is it?
It’s all changed now.
Whatever I lost,
What ever I cried for
is not mine.
Those wild gentle eyes
can never be mine.

But they were within my reach.
Didn’t you see it?
Alright it’s true
nothing is ever enough;
images split truths
into empty liquor bottles
spread across the floor.

Sooner or later
we all must throw up
dreams to stain the sheets

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