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let's not talk about this
by Lauren Singerbless your heart, darling.
you've shown me what it means to be
alone, and i guess, i have to thank you for that.
there's a look you get,
usually about two drinks in,
sipping yourself warm with straight scotch, no ice,
and i can't help but drown a little every time
your brown eyes water in my direction
and it reminds me
of otters holding hands,
and i want to take my clothes off for you.
has it come to this again?
am i sly, lip curl folding my hands
and inviting you to stay a couple extra hours,
offering to drive you home,
gripping your shoulder blades
in a 'by accident' kind of way.
i want to soft moan my remorse into
something meaningful, after midnight,
your shirt unbuttoned with my hands.
i don't want to talk to you.
i don't want to ever "check in" again.
i want to force your silence with my tongue.
i want to ruin our good graces
with something violent and a little bit wrong. 12/18/2010 Posted on 12/19/2010
Copyright © 2024 Lauren Singer
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Ken Harnisch on 12/19/10 at 06:31 AM sensual, sassy...a Singer poem if there ever was one...:) |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 12/19/10 at 02:29 PM Not many women drink scotch without the rocks. But sure can warm the soul if not drown it. Good write lady, as usual. |
| Posted by Nadia Gilbert Kent on 12/19/10 at 08:35 PM Pheromones + alcohol = a bitch... in the morning. |
| Posted by Ava Blu on 12/21/10 at 04:55 PM Sigh. Sigh. Sigh. Your words make me sigh in such a heart-breaking way. I am addicted to it. |
| Posted by Elle O'Connor on 12/26/10 at 01:02 PM I agree with Ava! |
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