On Bodysuits

 

On bodysuits and words,

last night I thought to myself,

shit girl, you stopped writing.

why ?

because bodysuits.

It encased,

mon petit cheri,

its shape and form,

function and flavor,

too tight to breathe.

Anger with my mind for allowing the passage of time,

to create a space that is hard to define.

Like kisses from sweet feathers,

wispy and light,

forming little letters,

that will beset her.

then,

gently slipping the straps off…

right,

left.

Letting it slip down my body,

budding seeds,

curved forms,

it hits ground.

soft plop,

light mound on the floor,

free again.

and i write this piece of crap.

switched off the lights.

Good night world.

 

 

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