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How did I get here?
Why can’t I leave?
Why is this suite
one hundred degrees?
Whose idea was it
to share burning trees
with this woman
whose gaze swipes
the straight from my knees?
Why am I stuck
in this chair?
Why does the coconut
scent of her hair
linger in my nose
like whispers
of my romantic prose
she recites and
pours into my ears?
Who let her soft
finger tips
hush my lips?
Where did this
armrest strangle-hold grip
come from?
Why are my toes
curled up, cramped
and numb in my shoes?
Why am I squirming
in synch when she moves?
Why are my eyes
peering up at my brain?
Why does my forehead
bear one throbbing vein?
How did we both
end up sweaty and drained?
Since when did
“D@mn, Baby”
become my name?
How on Earth
did I get here?
- HymnAgen
