On a crowded bus you were a stranger
stepping back the curve of my cock pressing
in the curve of your ass. I came after
you. You led, I followed you home. Walking
ahead of me I could see through your skirt
and you just smiled. Nectarine: sweet and warm
between your legs, peach camel toe. You squirt
when you cum, this much I know. A firestorm
nothing can quench. Unless it’s hard. Unless
it’s rough. Later, as your curtains shifted,
parted, I lay in bed, watching you dress.
Lover, it’s been years. Somethings are vivid.
Others not. I have forgotten your name
but your skin’s fragrance will always remain.
memories of my ghost sista 