I don't write as often as I used to (and it's down right criminal the way I've been neglecting this blog), but I got the bug this weekend. Only two that made the cut...
Sweetheart
You smelled nice, the artificial, chemical kind of nice. Shampoo with
just a dash of perfume.
Just enough to get my attention and keep it.
I'll never know how you tasted but for a while when I tasted other
women on my tongue,
I would think to myself you must have been that much sweeter.
I remember your hands holding mine, and the way your forehead felt on
my lips.
I miss the happy fool I was.
Phone Sex
She
can feel me now.
She’s
soft, warm, smooth all over.
She
says it’s my voice.
Poems by Ryan Scales
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