Friday, August 28, 2009

Beauty

I think it was a man’s
Shirt
Casually hugging your female frame
Light as a parachute
In its throes
Of flight

The skin of your neck
Skinny and taunt
Was a clean, soft
Blade
Ripping
Through the fabric

An unbuttoned
glimpse
A gift

I ogled and felt no guilt
In my desire

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