Winter Chill

7 Words

cold front
cut the line
carrying w i n t e r

Love on a Platter

A musical poem

Photo by Matheus Henrin via Pexels

The phone rang and her voice
shimmied into my ear.
Every bone in my body
begged her to come,
Lay It Down On Me.

I wasn’t shy in my request.
A recent breakup made me the
rebound — implored her to
Guess Who Loves You More
and she didn’t hesitate.

My mind ached; the time we spent
was cut back, we became
Distant Lover (s) before we
could ever be friends.
Lovemaking was a pastime to
explore ‘Til The Cops Come
Knockin’
.

She’d never been thrown into
a world of wonder without
a ploy behind the scenes and
I had to Take My Time,
Do It Right
.

Deflowered at midnight in
a bed of pillowed trust,
her heart was the key to my
boarded up walls.
I looked at her and whispered,
“You’re So Beautiful.”

She hears me.
She hears me.
I bloom in the midst
of love on a platter.
Scandalous before a naked moon
She understands — decides to
Let Me In.

We sunflowered the days
and moonbeamed the nights . . .
Toujours perdrix— but just
enough for us.


Originally published in Intimately Intricate on Medium.