Afternoon Countdown

The sad silhouette

writing in the daytime,

mid afternoon,

this star-struck addiction

still stuck in her head

a closing heavy fist,

twisting hair-handfuls,

drenched in her perfume.

Counting down the time,

the jealous sky

can’t leave soon enough

allowing us

to play in the darkness.

Dress up

in that nighttime exploring

cinched up super close

she begs for more

using the one trigger word.

Up against it now

that quickening rush

to hurry and undress

to her playlist

crawling backwards

on sharp elbows.

Knees open and accept

the hungry whispers,

gently biting

with purpose

her chin tips

slightly to the side,

it’s her favorite place

to have

whispered words.

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