Cougar Memories

Sunday mornings

especially

I miss your young skin

Next to mine

Slipping in and out of slumber

waking in sensual wonder

for one so young

your hands knew

exactly what to do.

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The memory of you

In the dream:

Your bearded face
on my pink lace
it tickled
I squirmed

Finger
tracing
thrilling
linger

Then you became her
not the golden Greek goddess
the ballerina
fragile and fair
swinging wispy blond hair
tears streaming down her face
I’ve rejected her favour
How could I,
let her labour
to please me
without,
paying a fee?

We laid down on her bed
staring at the hole in the ceiling
she explained to me
that’s where her demons go
but they come out at night
her face
pulled in fear and fright

I held her tight
and said:
You can sleep by me tonight.

Knowing:
In this sanctuary
my bed
has never been shared.
  

Completely

Dark

the depths of despair

Lonely

the way back home

to what?

to whom?

broken porcelain pieces

shards of glass

 

I loved completely

Soul absorbing deeply

Passionately

Violently

Seductively

 

never did I see the end

nor identified the game

 

left to wallow in pain

such a shame