April Showers

I discovered this poem in my reader and thought it deserved a re-blog. Quite captivating!

*Insert Propaganda Here*

I looked for you
in my room
drenched
with cleansing
deterioration,
and found you
like a decoration
decking my bed
in orange red shafts
of fevered light
wriggling to be
unified not spread apart
I touched
the heart that lies
between your thighs
and you giggled,
trickling a little,
and the evening
thrust its eye
on the window
we could smell
the impression
the odor of wet
and brevity
climbing down
and through the glass

-r. miller

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