No longer present despite the
press of pliable flesh.
A multiverse of outcomes
expands before my mind.
Primed for impact,
a cotton-cloth barrier is all
that stands between
pulsing passion and penetration.
With legs entwined in
tangled sheets of coastal blue,
she is a mermaid underwater;
the ebb and flow, her desire.
Her hair is an auburn fan resting
upon the pillowcase.
Lying bare to the world, she smiles;
apprehension applied as eyeliner.
“What are you thinking?”
she asks as I back away;
retreating into the safety of myself.
I match her smile, and
refrain from the true answer:
“You’re not the right one.”
by Erik Shinker
Ouch!
LikeLiked by 1 person
The commenter above me said the exact thing that was on my mind immediately after reading this poem twice. Ouch!
Provocatively written and deals such an unexpected sucker punch at the end!
LikeLiked by 1 person