It’s been a long while, but I wrote a haiku:
Alcoholism is tough
So easy to find
So very many triggers
Last Isn’t Always the Best Color
I’m not good enough to be anything but last.
How do I know?
People keep showing me
The Love of a Musician
You play my body like a harp
Plucking my consonant heartstrings
Strumming my musical pleasures
A cadence of body beats
Our moans a choral symphony
Harmonizing in melodious union
The gentle tintinnabulation of your fingers
Caressing me to a crescendo
Diminishing to a lullaby
Words inspired by:
The Love of a Musician
by Ivan Koulakov
Tart
My sexy temptress
Thigh-high stockings, schoolgirl dress
Sweet enough to eat
from Pinterest
Yesterday’s Daily Prompt: Tart
Touch Me
Fuck me right and fuck me now
Use my body
Give me a reason to cry
Pleasure
Pain
It’s all the same
When you’re touching me
Ride the Waves
Lack of control
Like waves on the ocean
Sometimes lapping at the sides of the boat
Tickling and waving like a playmate
Enticing
Sometimes strong enough to knock out the full contents
Churning and punching like an enemy
Bent on demise
But, no matter any of that
There is still no control
Just the illusion of it
Bitch On Fire
I hate being fake
Pretending to like someone
Because
I’m scared to make her angry
Because
I’m afraid to lose my job
Because
There is no nice way
To tell her that she’s a bitch-on-fire
P.S. Crazy girl at work has to take a “Communication Skills for Women” class. Woo hoo!! Karmic retribution!!
“She’s Beautiful”
Wednesday evening, before I went skating, I recorded a version of a lovely poem by Da Absentee – “She’s Beautiful” – and emailed it to him.
It is amazing and beautiful and traumatic and agonizing all at the same time.
Reading it was like he was in my head.
