Friday, October 21, 2011

Alone Again

No boring fetish kept locked away
in a musty closet or

a war-time footlocker that
once held foolish love letters.

No maid uniforms, leather whips,
handcuffs or hot-waxed nipples.

No choking, biting, smacking of
an ass cheek or two.

No naked lunches, no tropics.
Just cancer and capricorns

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