shaped bed,
with a tattoo on my shoulder,
i rub
my arm, there's
a red heart
with the name
Sasha inscribed in
red ink.
i never should have gone
to Las Vegas
for valentine's day.
one arm
is still tied to the bed
post.
i'm sticky with melted
chocolate
and dried
whipped cream.
i have no clue what happened
here last
night.
who drank all of these
bottles
of cheap champagne?
who's
stockings are draped
across
the chandelier?
it sounds like someone
is in the shower.
i hope she has the key
to these cuffs
that are fastened
around my ankles.
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