Greg The Poet

another love poem

Photo by Nicolas Ladino Silva on Unsplash

A voice that blends
from cool and quaint
to bold and brave
Soft and smooth
in all he speaks

With cigarette in hand
hope in my pocket
I finally felt
his ribbon mouth

His hands found
the small of my back
and the nape
of my neck

Black, purple,
whisped locks
shades of grey,
sun-licked leather skin

I grabbed his clothes
pulled him in
consumed his air
then breathed
out
smoke

Moving, shifting,
fleeting spark —
he is a vapor
on my spine,
a faded flavor
on my tongue
he evaporated
quicker than
he puddled

He is a chest
of drawers, full
of empty compartments
I would not mind
filling his spaces
for a night…