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Tag: lust

I sit and watch as she

I sit and watch

as she exhales clouds

of Turkish cigarette smoke

over Dior red lips.


I sit and watch

as she pulls up nylons

with embroidered welts

to suspender clips.


I sit and watch

as she ties her silk robe

with a smile for me wryly

at its fleeting use.


I sit and watch

as she opens the door

to a stranger invited

at an earlier seduction.


I sit and watch

as she moves to him

and lets foreign hands

explore her womanly body.


I sit and watch

as she turns to the wall

her breasts cupped firmly

legs moved apart.


I sit and watch

as she moans and reciprocates

while she’s held there

and used roughly.


I sit and watch

as she lays

prostrate on the bed

and her beau goes deeper.


I sit and watch

as her head turns

and looks into my eyes

and only mine.

Red and Black

The outline of her body

Displayed across the bed.


Like a blurred impressionist painting brought to life.


I’m a permitted voyeur

With un-admittable dreams that only she can soothe.


From the small of her back to the nape of her neck is smooth and warm like a sand dune.


In the presence of a woman.

I’m a man reduced to a boy.


Breathless by painted lips and catholic modesty.


Curled hair immaculate

Reaching down, over,

Over past perfumed neck and soft breast.

Round and ample


Stirring me, but: that face;

That unblemished Venus un-severe

I cannot compare.


Shining eyes half closed

In hushed repose, smokily

Watching me.


Every time I see her is like the first.

A discovery of a treasure thought lost.


Smiling at my breathlessness

She beckons me closer.


Consumed I approach trembling

This picture of beauty.

The mother of my child.

Fate Denied Us

June faded away like a lost forgotten lover.

For me, the days were longer.

Everywhere I look, there’s stillness and life.

The tense emptiness of being alone in these woods.

Silence once energizing, only broken by shouting.

The fetid air of failure

And the taste of rubber here and there unexpectedly.

The pain of temporary blindness smells like hot wood.

I saw screenprints by Andy Warhol in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

On a Wednesday afternoon, I wished you’d been there.

Not really though.

It was hot and the streets were busy with people

Hanging out or just walking

Like we’d fallen back in time.

A vision of the nineteen-sixties,

A pair of people in the same place because

We had the same shoes.

Where for to you be said the friend I don’t know anymore.

The plump ass of vindictive lust

Walks away with relief and frustration.

As satisfied as a starving child,

I was rich and the world was mine,

As tall as a house.

The real me unzipped my shell

And stepped out to fanfare.

Dude came to life and threw money around.

One day, next week next year

His life will start, the one he has been waiting for

As real life slips by.

The soft needle now 

An impossible memory

In her dead fingers,

Just a glint.

We’ll spend more time together now you’re dead.

Fatum negavit nobis.

Locked doors patiently watching

Diesel engines cheering us on

Now I clammer and grasp

As that June slips away gone.

©2024 David Newton