Mistake

The boy was walking
He saw her curls come into focus
Before her boots.
Those were brown.
Those curls wrapped themselves
around his eyes,
around his loins,
and his chest
hard to breathe
when you've just glimpsed the
next mistake you're going to make
He ambled closer, measured.
Each step closer.
Slower.
Her hair smells of the pot,
sweat, and denial of
a thousand cigarettes
She breathed in his ear.
And captured him.

Reviews

[Carol Cashes]

Ohhh, this is quite the little gem.
"Her hair smells of the pot, sweat, and denial of a thousand cigarettes"
Realistic and poetic. Nice combo and I'll be reading more of your posts. Again, I'm hardly a credible critic of poetry, but I know what I like...and I like this alot.

[Nipplegrinder]

I'm touched by your comment, Carol. Truly. Flattered and floored.

[Poetic Beauty]

Ahh sometimes far away glances change as we get closer. The smell of pot,sweat, and denial...

Real life gets messy.

[Nipplegrinder]

Indeed, it does. Thank you for reading. 😊