currently deciding on a new title

attempts at portraying other mindsets in poetry.

Untitled

The heat from the Zippo feels good on his face.
Though warm already, it always felt nice.
Bursts of cold air strike his sweaty back,
While he holds up the Camel with his dry lips.
She stretches her arms while still on her back.
Her cheap cigarette burning in her mouth.
Runs fingers through her hair, straightening tangles.
She always hated her hair this messy.
The smoke burns his lungs as he takes another drag.
It’s not as bad as the claw marks on his back,
Or the red imprints of teeth littering his shoulders,
But the latter two he’s always enjoyed.
Her legs sore and tired, muscles burning,
Laid upon the bed, gaining their due rest.
Stretches again, producing a moan of contentment.
For the first time, this made her feel at ease.
Heart rate slowing, catching his breath,
He closes his eyes and rolls his neck.
Gets up to his feet, feeling sweat cooling on his skin.
Turning to the bed, gazes at what lies in the middle.
The sweat covering her figure glistens in moonlight.
Soft, silk sheets stick to her wet body,
Every inch of it exposed to the cold air.
She takes a deep breath, enjoying the attention.
His eyes move up and down, taking in the sight.
Smirk on his face and glint in his eye.
He grabs an ashtray and flicks his cigarette.
Taking in his prize, his conquest of the day.
She grins wide, and is amazed at this act.
She’s never been comfortable seen naked before,
With only her sheen to cover her body.
Her heart and her loins are aching for more.
He knows this is wrong, but doesn’t seem to care.
Lust, to him, has always come first.
More important than compassion, than trust, love.
He puts on his pants and gets ready to leave.
Confusion sets in as she watches him dress.
Springs up from the bed and rifles out questions,
Each responded to with one-word answers.
Pain increases with each passing syllable.
With his clothes now on he reaches for his keys.
Swatting away annoying questions like flies.
His prize is turning out to be more of a nuisance.
He walks out the door and slams it behind him.
Still sitting in her bed, she can feel the tears welling.
Once again, uncomfortable with her nudity.
Remembering now why she hates these situations,
She sinks back down, to the protection of her sheets.

2011

© Nick Bacon