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Dec 2019
The prize
The prize
That was not the prize

There is a hot sting not to wear gold
Nor silver, nor copper, nor soft satin

There is a gnawing hunger
Not to gain,
Check,
Dollar,
Nor nickel.

But
The prize
The prize
Those were not the prize

I crave that first voice
That tongue dancing my song
Those lips kissing my ink
Those teeth chewing in ecstasy
The words I wrote
Just me
Written by
M Grant Teague  35/M
(35/M)   
185
   Carlo C Gomez
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