Making memories from words
wiping tears with out using  hands
A scented eraser across
Pages of errors of others
Perfectly smooth with out a single
Erasure hole……
How could I guess
that in that bee hive of poems
wanting to sting faceless skin
I would find your honey ?
Sticky and sweet  in  your taste buds ….
Beautiful as you undressed
sensitive skin of wounds
Words flower anticipating your caress
 Evening  silence haunts the poem
That throbs in your presence
( Dedicated to flame thrower )