Michelle

Michelle's the best I ever kissed.
Inside her lips there's chocolate wine.
Condemned to be apart, I've missed
Her body ripening on the vine.
Each memory of her's a dream,
Like love unraveled from its spool,
Leaving lust without the gleam:
Even rapture can be cruel.

Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.



[about this site] [poems for free] [poem of the week]
[site policy] [about me] [links]
{ezoic-ad-1}
 
 
{ez_footer_ads}