Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Allie Gordon Mar 2010
This kind of cold brings dry coughs and dry skin.
It’s easy to peel off winter’s dry skin.

The wine crowds gather. Warm, drunk and huddled.
You’ve got a cute face, step out of that shy skin.

Afternoon yawns stretch out sleepy beached jaws,
Sun heats the shoulders of browned July skin.

Entrances open, skirts start to trail in,
Over coffee she watches him eye skin.

Thick flannel jacket, back broad and strong.
No way in heaven she could deny skin

Bruised and broken. A gentle collision.
He sponges salt water off of her spry skin

Musty fog slips into taxis and trains.
Red lips are vital to her good-bye skin.

Its strange, how similar the two can feel
Hide of an alligator and my skin.

— The End —