sometimes good people do bad things
everyone’s a saint
before they sin
to get their own way
you could slide
your arms around me
seductively
fluttering your quaint
poetry
like angel feathers
up and down
my spine
open me wide
like a new book
whisper your
warm prayers over my …
throat
steal my voice
stroke my tongue
with your words
in exchange
for mine unheard
before laying me
out
like a fresh sacrifice
sometimes
good people
do bad things
like
re-imagining
the
safety in
soft poetry
kissing skin
listening
to what’s beating
underneath
all that
soft poetry
Candide Diderot. ‘24
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