The last one in the room.

I’d bet her kisses
could make us remember,
something in the first touch
where the lightning strikes
and my eyes fade away.
To see her walk
in that body
just makes mine shake
and these thoughts
begin to blister
up against each other.
If she has a perfect name,
I don’t know what it is,
just the fact that
I watched her leave
is the only thing burning
and this missed opportunity
has spent itself again
keeping me at my table
and writing in this stupid book.

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About Sean O'Gorman

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

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