By Roy Stephen Canivel
You’ve always sounded poetic
when you told me you love me.
Don’t get me wrong.
I appreciate it
like a college freshman
shaking hands with Pablo Neruda.
You’ve always sounded poetic
when you told me you love me.
Don’t get me wrong.
I appreciate it
like a college freshman
shaking hands with Pablo Neruda.
But I couldn’t help but feel
the friction of layers of your skin
as they struggled to hide
under the dry touch
of your lips.
What are you
not telling me?
the friction of layers of your skin
as they struggled to hide
under the dry touch
of your lips.
What are you
not telling me?