literature

NaPoWriMo: Day 15 (Short)

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Literature Text

The simple thought of touch
whispering little caresses, or hugs or
a hand on an arm, a hand on, well
hands explore, it's what they do
so sure, it was enough, yes siree,
it always was more than enough.

Touch, that old bastard
used to crumple her innards
and smash - what? Her self regard?
But she sat in a pick-up on a hot summer
evening while a good old boy explored.
his hand was dead set
on its destination, but willing
oh yes, he sure is a pro!
willing to take it niiiiice and easy
because, face it honey, it'll be a touchdown
he's real good and you're a little stupid
in this summer heat.

And in a hot car on a hot summer a hot hand
slid down
Oh god my mama bought this skirt
My mommy bought this skirt
so she punched him
then sat in his car
and cried
and he let her cry on his shoulder
He wasn't even a bad young man
but she didn't talk to him again.

One morning she rolled over
watched her pretty bedmate sleep
mama was wrong about heaven, I think
because I've never felt it before
not in a hot car never-
I do now.


A thigh showed and the stomach bare
was a playground for window shadows
rippling and dancing on the skin
the skin she liked to touch
the sun glanced off
the cross that hung between
her breasts
mama was wrong about heaven, I think
and then sleepy eyes fluttered open
Hello good morning love you
was said and said again
They always talked in the morning.
Cut down. This is short when I write free verse now, apparently. Hopefully it flows better, now. I'm keeping both in the gallery. I'm probably losing some watchers to my terrible poetry, anyways. :dummy:
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