feelings

0 Comments

Tags:
  • Fantasy

    feelings

     Hands cold firm like steal
    sunk into the dashboard
    she twists her way up into it
    knowing its every curve
    sweat hot like morphine dripping to a tip
    beading pass the ash tray headed to the hip
    drop on over the shoulder for just a little trip
    hands cold like steal in the dashboard grip.

    Poem Comments

    (0)

    Please login or register

    You must be logged in or register a new account in order to
    leave comments/feedback and rate this poem.

    Login or Register

    Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.

    Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) U.S. poet.

    inklost’s Poems (4)

    Title Comments Submitted
    Title Comments Submitted
    feelings 0 10/01/2009
    seven 2 09/30/2009
    are ash 0 09/30/2009
    The meaning 1 09/30/2009
    Top of Page