Dark Rise
The streets are ridge-backed and growling.
City lights glare like outflanked samurai.
Your thin lips dice words,
sideswipe wanton desire,
hints of release measure my mind.
Whiskey blooms in your orchid mouth.
I am led to where a lust
is snorting to be free.
Warm winds groom stray hungers.
A room behind the neon
beckons.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2022
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