Rhythm and Motion

I stare
At the busy, boring pattern of the velour seat.
So many shades of brown
And not one of them a match
For the beauty of your skin.
I picture you beside me,
Long and lean
Smelling of spice and whiskey cream
I watch your nipple harden
And pucker the seam
Beneath your shirt.

I pause
And we drift into uncertain slumber.
You are no longer mine
Just another stranger.
A fingernail scratches
My upturned wrist
Clenching me tight
Your fingertips twitch,
And though you are distant
Absorbed in the window passing by
Your signal is clear.

Echo
Loudly breathless in an empty carriage.
Scared of their judgement
Their sideways glances.
Your hand caresses
Slipping down between
My knees, my thighs,
Outrageous, obscene
You throw your green
Coat over my caution
Always it seems
I come without trying.

All Rights Reserved, Alicia Fitton 2016

If you liked Rhythm and Motion, read The Calling…

Nightmare

It bangs on the windows
and rattles down the stairs
It roils and it boils
and it always comes prepared

In the rain it lingers
a grin of teeth and tongue
It bides its life in corners
where sunlight never comes.

I can see its shadow,
a thin, translucent edge
Discordant voices singing
a hymn that echoes on.

Nightmare won’t you leave me?
My life is worn and thin
An anxious, guilty patchwork
I’ve lost the needle in.

All rights reserved – Alicia Fitton 2016

If you liked Nightmare, read Word Shimmy