The Persistence Of My Memory
i am looking forward to see
molten clocks on my table
elongated days like rubber
heated with the fire from your
eyes
dripping silver spoons from
my porcelain cup
of coffee
i expect the flow of lava
in my bed
you say you are hot and
about to erupt
into a multiple orgasm
on my linen
well said, but not well done.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
No comments until now.