I Dreamt Of

I dreamt about you, again.
I dreamt of pushing you
against the glass
in that hotel in Prague.
Of your breath and skin
fogging the window.

I dreamt of your stockings
around your throat,
your lips
gone bruise-purple.
I dreamt about holding you down,
in the bathtub,

until you put your hands under,
to show me you were finished.
I dreamt of the red lipstick
you liked to wear,
and the ring of it
you left around me.

I dreamt about tiger-striping your back
and ribs
and thighs
so that no matter what you did that night,
they would know
you were mine.

I dreamt of your tears.
When I woke,
the salt of you
was still on my tongue.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to I Dreamt Of

  1. Trent Lewin says:

    Tiger-striping your back… awesome stuff, Jones. I know your views on singing, but I would pay to hear you scream this.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.