She Scratched My Soul
she scratched my soul, the girl from Valencia,
I lost my way,agreeing to share her silk-mesh
thighs, to "double-man the tiller,"
so to speak,
which was OK...for a time,
then our "arrangement" became too much to bear,
some nights I thought I could smell him, his thick
beard, his linen shirt, his poetry:
so I cast her off: oh the pain, the terrible pain,
at seeing her drown in her own blood and his sperm
and I never did that "open" thing again
Copyright © Peter Lewis Holmes | Year Posted 2015
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