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by LaLa
Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Romance/Love · #1582311
A woman delicately describes a one-night-stand that is a reoccuring experience for her
Morning throbs onto horizon
He’s sleeping dead
One of dozen

Slipping on linen
Once I find them
Skitter out like red robin

Lewis, Carl, Matthew, Arthur
But names don’t matter
When bodies wander

Head is dry
Energy is falling
Sunday Morning
And he’s not calling

[NOTE: This poem does not directly reflect me or my lifestyle, but is moreover something of my dramatic imagination. ]
© Copyright 2009 LaLa (kladie at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1582311-Sunday-Morning