My feelings are conjoined twins
connected in the pelvic region,
prone to frequently unhinge,
the angel and the heathen.
My emotions are strings split,
a ripped cradle of a corset forgets
when to suck in and when to quit,
loosen and tighten, a fickle faucet.
Somewhere in the middle
I always give in,
find a reason to bend:
the lacy dress, a crinkly mess,
my latest guest, a big conquest,
braless bravado, backside aficionado
the short buzz of a lousy win.
My libido is my linchpin,
hands resist lacy nets
but the legs always open,
two siamese silhouettes.
Nothing’s worth the risk of surgery;
I’ll keep my conjoined personality.
© khartless 2021, All Rights Reserved
For the August 27th episode of Late Night Poets
Man Ray Photography