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Sunken red sofas. MAG
January 29, 2013
“Touch me more.”
To be frank, my dear, until
we play out
our
unrehearsed teenage indiscretions
upon your ugly red couch,
I'll touch you
no more than it takes
to feel the tingle
from the electric fence
anchored in
your
chest.
© Ariel L., Bethesda, MD
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This article has 2 comments.
Ahhhh, teenage lust. And the old "commitment issues". I love this poem. In fact, I'm in love with you poetry right now. I love the image of the old red couch; so teen of teens. That doesn't make sense I know. But only teens are willing to make love on an old red couch.
