Stumbling Towards Desire
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A sordid poem of lust, crime, loss, treachery and pizza
I stumble pajamaed, half asleep toward the object of my desire.
in memory, it calls to me, of passionate pleasures experienced prior.
The morning's night is the consummate time for secret rendezvous discrete.
With ninjaly sneak I arrive at the door - my illicit joy within reach.
But to my horror I find the pizza gone - again, my trust is breached!
Copyright © Anais Vionet | Year Posted 2020
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