Red – a poem


The color red,
to my dread,
still reminds me of rough sex,
al thanks to my ex,
who wore tight leather pants.
I can imagine the smell,
touch,
getting undressed
banging against the wall as we whale,
and we come down on each other as a gale.
Two bodies in perfect unison.
Hungry for more,
ah the good old days,
where have they gone to?
Now it’s just me in my leather sofa,
wanking off,
within my fantasy with red leather pants.

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