The crow at your door
surprised me…
a vision…
Could not comprehend
it’s ghost like precision…
Crows can be murder
or rapture or rotten…
We entered beneath it
and soon twas forgotten.
I was in your apartment
and very much single…
When the spark in your eyes
made my skin start to tingle…
Though we weren’t alone
and we weren’t together…
I was laying there
hard
and wanting
and clever…
The throbbing
was robbing of fear and of doubt…
The sex of your eyes
made me long to find out
just how you would taste
and I couldn’t hold back…
And alone for just moments
I pounced and reacted
with hunger and lust
at the sights set before me…
You tasted amazing…
You tasted of glory…
You tasted of chance…
You tasted of trust…
But the moment
it faded
and it turned to dust…
Yet within me it lingers…
I know what the crow meant…
For I remain rapt
in the taste of that moment.
Written by Jason Wright
September 20, 2011
For Tom: more than a year after the fact.
