Summer was...

Summer was...

A night of frosted air,
Claimed passions.
A smothered desire
to know your enemy.

A feathered dust storm of
blinding sand, dirt and specks.
A rusty shack of unborn
children.

An old beaten mattress,
with an old iron frame.
A torn floral dress,
singed with cigarette butts.

A familiar smell, both
sweet and sour.
A tentative touch, light
and heavy.

A bruised hip, slapped wrist
A love so sweet it could
bear a fist.