There
it is the memory,
the vapor
before the eye:
you are leaving
the orgy, just as
I am coming
in. You are
laughing after
slapping me
on my bare ass.
The question is
always the same
when we meet:
how much of this
friendship is friendship,
how much is frustrated
desire?
1 comment:
how often do we visit, and revisit that one person who has everything we need, but gives us nothing?
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