If, he faces a little to the left
he can hear her voice, her words
thread into his tattered seams.
Seduce him past bright dawns found
within the heart of her embrace.
And if he sits doll-like-still, the
sheer curtains slap his face with
psalms of forever until he becomes
drowsy with desire
imagining her ruthless kisses.
Cynthia M.
onesingleimpresssion
