Her skin is beaded, drops of sweat
From assumed throes of some passion.
The gift, the money is forever.
Dear reader, buy this item now
And you can have me; kiss these lips,
this neck, this collarbone.
So saturated, you turn the page.
Man, grey skies, his perfect suit.
Skinny tie hangs over white shirt.
Well dressed, the rain falls by his side,
Yet he remains an untouchable.
Perfectly crafted rough stubble,
Highlighted eyes, no source of light.
The car is vivid colour, clean lines,
And he is a bauble. You turn the page.
Click here to read "Abusive", one of my previous poems
Click here to read "Revolver", one of my previous poems
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