James Roach


Through sweatpants waistband
and flowered lace vulnerability,
my toyed hand lunged
to the perfect spot
between two lips
that haven’t been kissed
in years.
I focused on a photo of you.
I want you eyes,
lips I would pray to,
nipples threatening to be visible
through the shyness
of your white tank top.
I thought of all the places
we could unrighteous our mouths,
devouring you on a pulpit.
Skin, sparks
and holy smoke between us.


James Roach (they/he) is most creative between the hours of up-too-late and is it even worth going to bed? He currently resides in Philadelphia. To read some of his published works, visit his linktree: https://linktr.ee/wordsmith18

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