{"id":128616,"date":"2023-09-02T12:04:55","date_gmt":"2023-09-02T16:04:55","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/?p=128616"},"modified":"2023-09-02T12:04:55","modified_gmt":"2023-09-02T16:04:55","slug":"hour-three-twenty-little-poetry-projects-2","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/2023\/09\/hour-three-twenty-little-poetry-projects-2\/","title":{"rendered":"Hour Three – Twenty Little Poetry Projects"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n
Wring me out like you did your finest silk shirt that you stained with wine over last night’s dinner.<\/div>\n
You know it’s dry clean only!<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
If you hadn’t wanted more of its oaky aftertaste. If you hadn’t been watching me out of the corner of your eye. If you hadn’t leaned forward to touch my hand. if only you had heard me the first time. if only I hadn’t worn your favorite perfume.<\/div>\n
You can’t blame me for this, It wasn’t me that said you taste like a month of Saturdays.<\/div>\n
Don’t put on Otis Redding and expect me not to dream of that night we danced in the sand on Presque isle<\/div>\n
It’s probably not even real silk, not spun from real worms, but those synthetic ones kept in a plastic jar.<\/div>\n
What’s any of it matter, eventually rocks become sand and we will all be fossils.<\/div>\n
Anyhow, you’re still all that and a bag of chips.\u00a0<\/em><\/div>\n
I eat the whole bag and want more.<\/div>\n
It’s been at least a coon’s age<\/em> since I’ve felt so reckless<\/div>\n
The diaphanous blue of your eyes is like courage making me want to tell you everything<\/div>\n
Even still, the coolness of your touch heated everything within me<\/div>\n
I grab hold of your face and kiss your lips with the fervor I have been saving for months<\/div>\n
Miss Thang is finally living up to her name.<\/div>\n
You surrender to your feelings and let me taste the salt on your lips<\/div>\n
Your tears dry my eyes<\/div>\n
\u00a0As the moon rises from my heart<\/div>\n
“C’est la vie<\/div>\n
The tea kettle cries<\/div>\n
So I must leave you to wallow in your own sorrows as I tend to mine.<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Wring me out like you did your finest silk shirt that you stained with wine over last night’s dinner. You know it’s dry clean only! If you hadn’t wanted more of its oaky aftertaste. If you hadn’t been watching me out of the corner of…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4841,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[13,441],"tags":[5845,463],"class_list":["post-128616","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-miscellaneous","category-poetry-prompt-responses","tag-poetryprojects","tag-poem-three"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/128616","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4841"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=128616"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/128616\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":129583,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/128616\/revisions\/129583"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=128616"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=128616"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/thepoetrymarathon.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=128616"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}