by Ginette T Belle

my soul sister
all covered in whimsy
we breathe in the same lukewarm air
and burn up like toast in the oven
when turned up way too high
we unfold, spellbinding, breathless

and then ice-water where the beer used be
down the front of our dresses
raw passion squelched when he gets burnt


Posted on 11/19/2004
Copyright © 2022 Ginette T Belle

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