when passion behind our doorway swept

how many loves have i fucked up along the long road that wound up being so short because of repitition. did i spell that right?

when passion behind our doorway swept

a poem composed lamented grime before the door

before the gate of lustful lips to be danced upon

a poem composed greedy against the tear stained blue rugs

before the moist aroma of where eden entrance splits

a velvelt veil of theology that gives no occupancy

 

sensory - desireful need

when passion behind our doorway swept

the poet's promise reluctant fragrance turned to fear

made winter reek of sweat that wasn't from thrusting

nor rolling

nor breaths that never rest

Author's Note

hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm........