and some exotic bloom.
The scent fuels my hunger
for her body. I want to own
it, merge with it, become part
of her. Hurry, she urges. But
the tease is almost the best
part of the game, so I bring her
close and closer with my hands
and mouth and finally I am inside
her. I can’t get enough, so we go
and go until the only thing left
is to finish. And still I want more.
Autumn Rose Shepherd
SOMETIMES I SEE FACES
Somehow familiar,
but I don’t know why.
I cannot label them,
no matter how intently
I try. They are nameless.
And yet not strangers.
Like Alamo ghosts, they
emerge from deep
of night, materialize
from darkness, deny
my sleep. I would call them
dreams. But that’s too easy.
I SUSPECT
One of those faces belongs
to my mother. It is young, not
much older than mine, but weary,