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His eyes shone halogen headlight bright,
His handmade hips hugged denim mass-produced,
He wasn't supposed to be there that night,
As a hangman's heft-hanged noose.I wanted him for my plaything.
I craved those curling toes, composing whispers
Mothers fear for sons' ears
Which fathers take from faithless mothers.I longed his eyes to hold me
Grappled like a cheating hunter's gaze—
Dreams and promises of sweet cotton candy
I danced on his lawn as if in a daze.And I was ready too—
Ready for buttons, zippers, ties, and clasps—
Arched-backed moans and end-stopped gasps.
But never through.Cleavage balance heartbeat throb disrupted,
Now alight by thighs reflecting moonlight twice reflecting,
items lost, and articles left behind.
And if he asks what I did today, I will respond "nothing fun"
The Poems of Mister Miner | Commentary by R. L. Seasoning | Next Poem