Page 65 - The Woven Tale Press Vol. IV #6
P. 65
The lamp in his bedroom,
Placed on the floor,
Her head in his hands, caressed by kisses, The flex of her torso, as she dresses in haste. The books and the papers strewn on his desk. Pulled fingerprints through dust
On the top of picture frames.
‘Arsenal have just scored,’ she says and Takes off his glasses. The blue in her
Eyes reminding him of the pit of a volcano.
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