Posted in Poetry, Prose, Relationships

Legs, ankles, shoes

She had this way
of making me crazy
legs, ankles, shoes
mention them
she did, often
making my mind
caress her long legs
first the one way,
no stop
not the other way
her ankles
adorned with an ankle bracelet
one at least
the other shrouded
in mystery,
her shoes, a tale in themselves
a tale of one shoe
one ankle bracelet
and, Oh My God
my mind started, but
couldn’t finish caressing
her legs, first the one way
and then, no stop!

the other way again…



My profile might reflect who I am, what I think and why I write what I do. My profile might just reveal the inner workings of a deranged mind, a helpless soul, and a self-destructive way of living. Don't worry. I'm OK. I've just lost sight of my little sister in the evening clouds....

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