Roz Kaveney (rozk) wrote,
Roz Kaveney


Her long thin back that swelled to cello hips -
she feared they'd swell to a Sicilian bum -
Sweet cigarette taste latent on her lips,
All four; she'd whimper gently, then would come.

Dark eyes that used her fringe as hiding place -
Without her glasses, peering fierce as blade.
The times she giggled, pulled a silly face,
were when you were most likely to get laid.

Lust held us close;and sex pushed us apart.
She wanted in her what I wanted gone -
The bitter empty fucks that break the heart!
Our kindness after is the thing that shone
Lasting past lust. Dark wax melts from new gold
relinquishing the shape it burned to mould
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