NIPPLE HILL
©1996 by Harlequeen

Travelling, passenger and driver,
Silence swathing us like a shroud.
Past words, sharp as swords,
Cut too deep
For regrets to mend.

Ahead, Nipple Hill reveals itself.
A reverie of warm afternoons
Spent in our bed unfolds.
Your breasts reacting
To the soft caress, the harder bite.
The flavour of your body, enhanced
And complimented by maple syrup
Or butter-scotch sauce.

Now, stiff goodbyes between would-be friends,
Memories relegated to history.
Amongst the words, the undercurrent
Of remorse drags intention down.
To hold no grudge, bear no malice.