Pink Arsed Love

the twisting buckle hits hardly felt
inside the bully's mindgame of guilt,
your tears that losing left overwhelm
the silent underground roar of my sobs,
the smallest story burns brightly lit
by lips unread that kiss as paper cuts,
undressing sex like hot feet on snow
until we danced across jealous melts,
to curl up content skins embers blown
across the desert of pink arse'd love.


John.G.Hall©2003