Lover Number 32, or was it 38
You were a poem with bad grammar.
I revised you in my mind
until your hands almost made sense.
You touched me like punctuation—
brief, deliberate,
never intending to be part of the plot.
And I let you,
because absence feels cleaner than false presence.
Another name in the drawer.
Another night I slept skinless.
The body is so forgiving
when you lie to it beautifully.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
