BENEDICT SINISTER

The Sight of the See-Thru

Some things are better left unsaid. Here are some of them.

 

You don’t know

What you do

With the sight

Of your see-thru.

You don’t know

How it hurts

Looking under

Your microskirts.

 

Every night

The same nightmare

I see myself waking

And you’re not there.

Every day

My dream comes true –

These clothes are all that

Are left of you.

 

The scent of perfume on the breeze

Your body put my mind at ease.

One hundred years of therapy

Won’t cure this sensitivity.

 

And it goes without saying

That she comes

Without murmuring a sound

And she leaves

Without uttering a word.

Some things are

Better left unsaid.

Some things are

Better left unheard.