Protracted.

Twenty Degrees:
the shape of it relieves.
Acutely stretching
the arm it retrieves.

Twenty Degrees
is all I gave you;
It’s all you needed
to feel me and take me, too.

Twenty Degrees –
Ligaments and all.
You took so much,
yet, I doubt you recall.

Twenty Degrees
opposing your obtuse reach.
Answering my cue for more, no,
never a need to beseech.

Twenty Degrees
I wish we were talking weather,
and that I could look you in the eyes
to say it’s been unseasonable, as I gouge the lifeless shits out of your empty fucking skull.

Leave a Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s