He stole her
Without a name.
The science of attraction
Is not so particular.

They ended up
Two loosely decorated
Flat against kitchen tile
Without a word
Between them
To ease their union.

She understood,
In a vague way,
The reality of it all.
We are lonely creatures,
Temporarily engaged,
Temporarily fascinated
By the curves
And freckles
And sweat.

At this point,
Communication is
The surest path
To demise.
She’ll have to
Feign slumber,
Catch brief impressions
Of him
With one eye shut,
Attempt to read the language
of a body in deep sleep.

She’ll have to wait
and see
if words arise with him
to greet her in the morning.

© Shea Depmore
Steal money.. not words.


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