Christopher Wingate

Christopher Wingate Poems

Comfort me, archaic little lover.

Touching... feeling... pressing...
...

When holding your heart;
I could paint your soul.
With every color,
Just not blue.
...

My skin is the earth,
Hardened from abuse.

My lips are the wind,
...

The Best Poem Of Christopher Wingate

Dirty Little Typerwriter

Comfort me, archaic little lover.

Touching... feeling... pressing...

Rapid thrusting.

Thrusting.

Friction.

Thrusting!

Bleeding... release.

This is your last time in this attic;

You're old and worn out.

And besides...

You were never good at keeping our secret, anyway.

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