Better days

I miss the taste
of Kahlua in your mouth
and how you danced
without music,
just a song in your head
for when I was watching
and now just thinking.
All those movements,
those calculated accidents
that kept me in this frame,
watching you move
like liquid skin
that’s never stopped grinding.

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About Sean O'Gorman

Spoken Word poet from Ottawa. View all posts by Sean O'Gorman

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