not there

[bennie2]

it isn't always, but sometimes, that she comes to me, alive, electric.
her short cut hair bristles across my cheek,
the recent cigarette smell of her breath lies along my nostrils
her hard-bodied presence tangles in my arms.
my hands reach for the small of her back, the warmth of her neck,
and come away, instead, with first-fulls of shadows, memories.
her black dog is dead in my head -
there is no room in fond remembrance for negativity.

--

i'm looking forward to that Neruda day when i can say "though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer and these the last verses that I write for her."

[mnaz]

'cigarette smell of her breath'...

That's refreshingly honest.
Sometimes I think we don't get enough honesty.

[Lightning Rod]

'cigarette smell of her breath'...

That's refreshingly honest.
Sometimes I think we don't get enough honesty.

how about, "her pussy was a little pissy."
?

[mnaz]

well, depending on context, that could be refreshingly honest too!

[bennie2]

little prissy missy
her pussy was a little pissy