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K Bruxx Apr 2014
face pressed near to mine
harsh bristles of yr stubble
rub my chin and cheek
even as your lips are silk
your eyes are biting

hands on hips and ****
i get so lost in it

and then i count the reasons not to want you
K Bruxx Apr 2014
dumped ***** plates from past half-meals
empty bottles, lager tins
tobacco packets picked clean
endless cups of tea and ****
until the milk turns.

dog hair woven to discarded clothes
on the rug and the settee
and the dust oppresses everything
half-dead or dying plants
and our favourite framed LP

there's nothing i can do or say
there's nothing i can feel now
putting in getting nothing out
tired of talking about and to
tired

— The End —