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He Said , I Heard
January 29, 2013
Do not mistake my words for poetry
I told him under the harsh fluorescent light
He grabbed my hand and kissed the flesh
Between my fingers
He spoke of soft voices and arching backs
I grabbed his hair and pulled his head in
Close
I looked in his eyes and spoke again
Do not mistake my arms for bed sheets
I am not for nightly visits
I am not constructed for warmth or comfort
He grabbed my waist and slipped his hands
Under
The waistband of my skin
He spoke of interlocked fingers and midnight
I believed him
© Dan R., Traverse City, MI
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