Fingernails

A Belgian stud who cut me open

Fingernails

Is the name of your poem

Because your fingernails are what I will remember

Even after the marks you left will fade

And they will

The yeasty smell of a Belgian bar

The softness in your lips, the strength of your nuzzle

It’s hazy

It is only morning and your face is already a distant memory

Your name, is fingernails.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A very nice poem. Gave strength and life to the marks of the fingernails. You create nice place and visions for the reader. Perfect ending to the outstanding poetry.
Coyote