Wasted

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I am wishing for a small thing
to give me pleasure.
Just something little.
A gesture of sweetness,
like my lover’s fingers rubbing the soft skin of my forearm
as he held me;
a touch of comfort
in the rain.

My heart grows drunk
on small sips.

I am a lightweight,
easily intoxicated
by smiles,
or better yet kisses.

But you are dangerous.

A shot of tequila,
aged well and strong.

Your words of love
go down smooth
like liquid fire.

I could easily
drink a case
and end up wasted.

7 thoughts on “Wasted

  1. basdenleco says:

    Intriguing metaphor that sets one pondering

  2. basdenleco says:

    Or is that wishful thinking.
    Delightful muse and minx you are true treasure of verse

  3. Indra says:

    Sheer eloquence you are.

  4. Pua Nani says:

    Reblogged this on eroticapoetica and commented:

    Trying not to fall off the wagon

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