Seeing To The Door

Written by: Johnathon Souders

This bliss rover I.
Lazed fresh muddy-smoke,
In hot-rate envy.
A digital glow moans,
2 am, lighting my skin.

She easily, nameless,
Just left.
My mass sweat,
On my cotton-mix.
She a slapdash, I letting.

Hour previous, world dyed in smut.
Three ago she open, breathing.
I flush, on decernables,
Day ago, I was settling,
On her far possibilities.

Shame thinking 
Justice grasping.
"All in all" apes right.
Upright, stone carving.
Tailoring white pillows,
With black market Viagra.

Her last words.
"Your precious"
Cleverly my eyes
Nuzzel wood floors.
Then sleep, a push to morning.
I did see her to the door.