Wet ShoesWET SHOESWet Shoes
When you came home, You soaked our carpet. When you didn't move your shoes, I knew from the puddle That you'd seen her. "I'll meet you home, Later." From the party, you watched me walk away. Did she wait beside you then? Or was it Later That she deluded your lips? You want me to say you Drip on Our carpet, To complain about The puddle, To ask what happened. So How careful felt her hands? How smooth felt her back? How soft felt her breasts? It rained. Why didn't you come home? From my window
UndoneUNDONEUndone
Tracing the collar of her Purple polo -- Tempera flowering the fabric Like the trees she painted for me Three months ago, Plain far away, Close up complex Yet intriguing As her smile -- Her black hair clips the skin, Soft like her paintbrush, Just dipped in the joy Of color, shape, and lines, Covering fingers, Threading shirt, A few buttons undone.
Cory“Cory’s Drafts”Cory
I. Cory wants to write a story about opposites. Consequently, she doesn’t know where to start or how far to go.
II. How far back should we go? Do you remember London? Do you remember grabbing an umbrella from the rack beside the doorman? Do you remember the wet asphalt smell from the passing storm? Cory remembers. She remembers the three bottles of red wine, your satisfied smile, the candles, the engraved silverware, the funny little Chinese man – Mr. Chou, maybe? – with his noodle tossing techn
Ghost Guessed -- draft“Ghost Guessed” I.Ghost Guessed -- draft
As I drove, Ceci slept in the passenger seat. She leaned her head against the window, the seat belt welting on her collarbone and a piece of hair slipping from behind her ear. She cradled her hands around her stomach. Moments like this, I imagined that she was comforting the daughter growing inside.
Ceci was nine months pregnant and claimed to be about ready to burst. My old station wagon puttered a path through the falling snow, back to our childhood New England home. Ceci’s C-section was scheduled for that Th
Numero Uno
Lazy
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I can do anything I want..
Thank you for the favs!
//Sanna
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Bad times can make you bitter or better...
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My Gallery
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My Gallery
I appreciate it.
Have a happy new year.
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Poor is the man whose pleasures depend on the permission of another
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