A verse that swaggers, kisses on the lips
almost to bruising, walks on, then looks back,
each quatrain part seduction, part attack
each couplet ending in a sly ellipsis

hinting consummation. Not my style
and not what I would want. And yet I yearn.
Verse that cries out ‘my love, look how I burn
to ash for you’ may weary in a while

Bad girls get all the fun. I know that’s true
I’ve loved the mad and bad and have the scars,
have kissed their whips, been dragged behind their cars
known pain that I would never wish on you

though if you wish, could recall and rehearse
their braggart tricks in new salacious verse.


About rozkaveney

Middleaged, trans, novelist, poet, activist
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2 Responses to More

  1. lokifan says:

    This is gorgeous! D’you mind if I include it in my poetry month posts?

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