Just A Letter

i want to fuck you out of my memory
but we all know
it does not work that way
you're deep in the recesses
safe from bravado, tears,
and excesses

you're my living end in a shiny red convertible
if death were tall, dark, and impossible --
babe, you'd be ringing

fetish

hardening flesh
rub against the soft
rush of fabric
suited up
boots polished
ready for your orders,
mein herr