no rhyming tonite

hands holding

The rally in his mouth no longer
moves me
His ante dotes no longer describe / how I feel
the flavor in his analogies offend me
cause he’s naked and happy,
I’m fully clothed and ready for another love war

I no longer desire the rhythm of his walk,
the gutsy bass of his laughter.
Our relationship is no longer melodic.

No more poetry.
We need to talk.

from the book, “Pocket Honey, Wind & Hips” – nikki skies

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