Poetry by Timberwolf

Silk Shirt

Stop.
Feel the soft lines rub against my face
like a caressing hand I knew a time ago
See her beneath the shirt
She is pretty, yes?
She smiles
I smile
See the silk shirt come away
Feel the soft lines rub against my face
like a caressing touch I now know...

Under the Bed, Under the Pillow-A Confession

Under the bed, under the pillow
I keep her there
When I get lonely, I take her out
I satisfy myself.

I always feel bad afterwards
I shouldn't relate to women like this...
I know that. I know that.
But late at night the siren song calls;
I dance like the puppet that I am.