Love Is Not A Contract-

The withering skin of her palm
read much of past loves and re-acquaintances.
Rhythms skipping skulls
and dancing a charade through flirting fingers.
Smothering smoke in a haze
on bedspreads, near windows grazed by daylight.
A hint of a smile
as you lie with sleep in the wake of a tear.
I finally felt the way
you've loved me in ecstasy from beginnings.

Courtney Roach
September 3, 2009

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Such Innuendos-

So stoned,
so dry and heaving
seeing skin and grinning,
dirty tiles touched with lust.

Courtney Roach
September 10, 2009

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Black-

The puckered lips that broke the petals from
the rusty, bent and broken tulips
wore her dirty fingernails all across your back.
And then her eyelids wept and
wet your hair before you tore her from your bed.
So she'd take the time to dance
in all your muddy footsteps
and lie inside your shattered snow angels.
Courtney Roach
September 17, 2009