Musings by The Poet Loriet
Devilish Desires
Irish coffee warms me inside,
or am I flushed from the fire?
I'm tonguing your stale cigarettes
and reading a braille Playboy
magazine as black leather
cushions my ass,
and black cats stroke my ego.
Your diamond earring reflects
in the candlelight,
bright against your
gruff face...you're everything
my mama warned me about,
yet when you hold out your hand
and pull me to you and we dance
slow dances in the quiet
morning hours, none
of that matters.
I, like her, want to tattoo
your moonshine
where none does,
and explore
forbidden
lands.
Take me there.
Lori Beal
or am I flushed from the fire?
I'm tonguing your stale cigarettes
and reading a braille Playboy
magazine as black leather
cushions my ass,
and black cats stroke my ego.
Your diamond earring reflects
in the candlelight,
bright against your
gruff face...you're everything
my mama warned me about,
yet when you hold out your hand
and pull me to you and we dance
slow dances in the quiet
morning hours, none
of that matters.
I, like her, want to tattoo
your moonshine
where none does,
and explore
forbidden
lands.
Take me there.
Lori Beal
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Devilish Desires
Devilish Desires
