The Memory Remains

The memory remains

Of cold flames

And skin

Against skin.

I may have learned

Her real name

But my memory retains

Rough carpet burns

And a skirt

So short,

That, on first look

I mistook

It for a belt.

No lover was spurned.

She never returned.

	K Morris Poet on Surface
	K Morris Poet on A Man Who Calls Himself J…
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	OIKOS™- Art, Books… on Surface
	K Morris Poet on Table Dancing

K Morris – Poet