Here's this week's www.textsfromlastnight.com poem.
(434):
Maybe if I get to know him I'll stop wanting to fuck his wife so much.
Sure,
He’s got the personality
Of a stone.
But that’s just
Me
Making a hasty imprint.
People are unkempt
Yards,
Hidden from time.
Given access,
Given the permission of grace,
There’s got to be some dormant dram of color.
Because she once savored him
Because she once matched his murmured breath
And found him flavorful.
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