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Thursday, May 14, 2015

Unreciprocated



Unreciprocated

The next day
and I feel spent as a whore.
The scent of your sex
sits heavy on my face.
I wash and wash
but the ghost smell on my
fingers remind me of
how I probed your ass. And
of how you wouldn’t touch
me. I sit at my desk with an
erection. Remembering. And
wishing it to fall.


From "The Candied Road Ahead: Poems and Stories" available in print or Kindle here. copyright Robert P. Langdon.

Image from Jyisfree

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