Would you be gentle, if we fuck? And carry me tender, slow, to a white room with blue, satin sheets?
Or would you throw me down the backseat of your car, and take me, and all I offer below the yellow streetlights and the gray moon in this black night?
Would you remember my name come daylight?
Or would I leave, and fade in silence, nameless, faceless, and ashamed, only to wither along the street wet with rain from the night gone by?
Devoted exclusively to the creative process. Here you will see photojournaling, poetry, prose, an occasional review--journaling or philosophical writing can be found on our other blogs. This is our attempt to use our imaginations. Enjoy!
Saturday, July 14, 2007
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5 comments:
umm, question - why does the title say across a coffee table. coffee and coffee tables are associated with the morning right? so is she thinking all this the morning after......?
the post was very depressing at first, but then it really made me think.
a wonderful portrait of a very raw and universal fear.
inspiring.
@ravali:
start thinking out of the box, woman.
start not to associate but crample prejudices. coffee doesnt come with a freshy tag.
but glad it made you think anyway :)
@alcoholic poet:
gee :)
\m/
coffee, if i interpret it in the context of this poem, would be sex.
i take this coffee table to be the one after dinner, when you have called your date in for a cup of coffee, expecting it would lead to some real good sex.
you dunno. you just assume it will be good sex, so you called him/her in.
and then think...is it right? will i be hurt again? what if he just wants to sleep with me and move on, like MOST men?
I just have the word Wow to say!
Wow WOW WOW!!!!!!!!
wat A Stupendous Peice!
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