Ghost Writer

by Andrea K

The writing on the wall
was barely legible as
I sat, cross-legged
on my bed,
finger-walking my way
up your right thigh.
but less than straight-laced,
you closed your eyes
and could not know
who's pen was dipped
into the well
last night.

Story Page back to the Short Story Page.

Ghost Writer, 4 August 2005