I keep you in the small seconds of soft quiet,
under silver moonlight,
serene crackling from the wireless,
Simon Templar’s shoes against dark streets, surrounded by foreboding whistling.
This is my heaven.
Your name nestled in my mouth,
your lips, loose on my trembling neck,
silk slip, slipping down onto the sheets,
serene cyclone starting in my shaking thighs and sending our surroundings into disarray.
I am not, and have never been a monster,
but I am the mother of many,
and I live inside of tomorrows, regretful, mournful mornings where I wonder where I went wrong.
Since that all started, I started to keep you close,
clutched close to my chest,
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