Connor

Connor coyly winks,
Desire rises within me.
A shiver trickles down my back,
Fever rushes to my face.
Pink.
Like the

Room 322 sits and waits for a visit
in a chair she is molded into

Her lonesome white curls though all primped up and polished
Bump

Promises often spoken
Hope held within her heart
Dreams to keep her warm at night
Through the nights they were apart

He said,

I thought what we had was real and complete,
I pictured us being together through triumph and defeat.
We exchanged words of

Don't push the button
on your dreams to much,
as such, it might just
be a little sticky, sometimes.

it not about the future