It’s night
I’m sitting in a bar,
Sipping a foreign strange tea
That makes my tongue numb,
And my brain calm.
There’s faint tribal music playing
Incense burning
Evaporating
The raw feeling
In the back of my head
From picking apart my brains.
There he is,
Silver hair,
Twinkling boyish laughter,
And eyes that I catch wandering.
After a few drinks
I recline in one of the arm chairs
My head tilts back
Over the cushion
Neck stretched
Hair tumbling down behind the chair
In a red waterfall,
Loose shirt
Falling down my body
Exposing my *******.
He walks by,
And lingers just an extra second.
He told me he was looking
And that I have beautiful skin.
A free drink,
A heavy handed pour,
Feeling his gaze
Burning into my body,
Down my head,
Neck,
Shoulders,
Small of my back,
Everything,
Drinking me in
As I walk away.
He told me himself.
Silver hair,
An eighty’s rocker,
Singer songwriter,
An interesting story
In a tempting binding.
If I have daddy issues,
Maybe he’s how I explore them.
