Coward

Coward
a poem by mj

Truth once going dull,
but the need to rip remains.
She's hmm-ing in a bluesy throat,
and he's coming back again.

For passion brushes weakly,
a map that's made in skin.
She's playing patterns happy,
and he's letting someone in.

Sky retains a darkness,
It presses, fills, and jades.
She's gnawing heated silence,
and he's sighing out their fate.

Always gasped in stolen air,
Some filthy, empty pleasure.
She's staying with her ending,
and he's not sure it's over.