coming to me

coming to me

simply peck my cheek and lightly put the tip

of your tongue against it

hold my middle finger lest it exercises the need

to be remorseful

touch my brown hair and tell me it is lustrous

even baked in sun you can smell the coldness of its strands

lounging the fear of more than 30 years

of loving a man again . . . of wanting the sex of a man


coming to me

be you

and invite me for Chardonnay and we will be good together.


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