Monday, December 17, 2007



A glow from Sex and the City fills her room
Red nail polish. Unlit cigarette. Shit, put it down. 
"One hour" she says between thick bites of gum. Saliva. Withdrawls. Mint.
The doorbell pierces the night fog
Little black dress. $75 Cologne. Strong, and sweet.
"Hot" she thinks as he says "hey" and puts his hand in the dip of her back.
Fifty voices meld as one around them
Dry martini. Hands across the table. Damn, let go.
"My place?" she hears above her drumming head and sweating left hand.
Sheets like butter surround them together
Red heels. Silk tie, both at the foot of the bed.
Their mouths taste of salt, wine and stale cigarettes.
He begins to speak. "Must go" she says.
One last kiss. Hands pressed deep in the bed, body erected above.
A night chill prickles her skin
Taxi. Cigarette. Fuck it, try again tomorrow.


Lauren said...

duuuuuuuuuuude. i was totally writing poetry at work today!!! :)

Claire said...

very interesting. i like the inner monologue and how its put out there so honestly within the story.