365 Days of Poetry: Day Two-Hundred and Thirty

Mikey wouldn’t calm it down.
Randy doesn’t mind the clink.
It’s blue death they desire.
wasting, a betrothal linked.

made a pass but I’m still fast.
step back, one two, it’s nothing new.
to avoid drunk-touch upon my breast.

a treasured night.
it’s home, you see.
where I find the truth of me.

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About June Faramore

Writer of fantasy, mainstream, and young adult fiction. Poet and sketcher. Mother. I read a lot and love cheese. Guitar playing singer-songwriter. I also enjoy stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk. View all posts by June Faramore

this side, that side

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