by R. Margaret Baird
He is forbidden. The loneliness returns. The blackness leaves and the loneliness returns.
I long again to press near to a man-
I shall have him.
I wonder which moment it was that set me off?
My god, he's brilliant.
I writhe in this empty bed. He is forbidden to me.
As delicious as passion fruit. And he is absolutely forbidden to me. |
R. Margaret Baird is finishing her Masters degree. She writes for stress relief.