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Violet Winters

Rookie - 71 Points (September 13 / Baltimore, MD)

Overnight Bag


I love watching you,
pull down that
long drive;
park your truck,
use your key,
turn the lock,
walk inside.
And lay in that way
you lay on
lazy days;
with your feet kicked up
in my lap to be rubbed,
on a black leather couch
you picked out
by yourself.
I love feeling
your fingertips
curl 'round my hips
as I cook in your kitchen
and you've come for
a kiss.
Then you're gone just as quick,
with iced tea in your hand,
out that crystal wood door
to be barbecue man.
And if you'd sneak
in the shower
for a steamy encounter,
I'd love soaping you down
then running around
in our towels to dry off
then press me
to a wall to
finish up.
But what I love the most is
morning and night;
the whirr of that fan
fixed to a drywall sky.
It perfectly cools
your chest and your face.
My fingernails dancing
on your skin like ice skates.
Then those round muscled arms
and a thick muscled neck
move their way closer,
like a human bulldozer,
til you've persuaded me
onto
my back.
And I melt;
hot like wax
on hunter green sheets
for hours until
we both fall asleep.
I love that your lips
and your skin
taste like sweat.
I love that it takes
just a kiss and
I'm wet.
Then you complain that you're hot;
and I complain that I'm not.
And the fan makes me colder
but you overheat
so I settle for your shoulder
while I reach
for the sheets.
And I love to wake up
to that hot coffee cup
and your handsome mug
smiling at the drool
I've inevitably pooled
all over your side.
I can't wait til the day
I can say you're all mine,
And stand out in a field
to watch the sun say goodnight
with a farmer by my side
and no overnight bag.

Submitted: Thursday, July 31, 2014
Edited: Thursday, July 31, 2014

Topic of this poem: love


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