lured again by your winsome magnetic charm

that breaks the sluice to my memory bin


your hands, blue chipped nail polish, silver rings

smile and laugh has branded my endorphins.


falling through panes of the past like a rag doll

in a coma of ecstasy, a drowse that inhibits my awareness


of the flames beneath that will eventually swallow me

though not before licking my flank and battering me about.


your hands, hot feline paws to my field mouse naivety

me, carrying a backpack of good times i had chosen to keep.


I’d walk back to you over broken bridges and fields of deception

to embrace your storm of kisses that could clear in a moments notice


leaving me broken in a desert hangover

barren of life and will to move on

with a nausea, craving

the drawstring that dangles in front of me


with your laughter trickling from its end.

I’ll reach and I’ll jump in an attempt to catch your attention


for a second of bliss

even if it means a lifetime alone

in this barren wasteland

following your tease


-PwD 2018




2 thoughts on “Drawstring

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