Black Hair
A black-haired dirty thinker
your words invade my head;
where lust and thirst become me
and love will see me dead.
Your body build a sailing ship.
Your keel at my back.
Your nods upon the ocean-
my death from your attack.
A bum to form a segment.
A fruit as firm as day.
A touch to stun the surface.
A helm to clear the way.
Copyright © Trevor Mcleod | Year Posted 2014
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