SilentMovieCard+HD

your fingernails are long

and remind me of amorous play

gone wrong with the curve

of your hips.

Those were the nights

I chose to remember

when I choose to remember

those times.

I could write songs about

the ways we made love

dangerous,

the evil curve of your

back while you cried

real tears

through an orgasm

as the blood rouged

your sex

and made trouble for

the hotel maid.

I think now

of other lovers

and the odd fit

of their bodies

to mine.

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