Wordle 477 by bwarren
I watch from a distance
As his beautiful hands spread gel through his hair
I know he is careful, he won’t spill a drop
His skin flawless, glows, but for one small
crescent shaped scar on his right shoulder.
I left my number, hoping he would call
My name on a list of many might mean nothing to him
I hoped my manuscript would sting his conscience
that he would bend to the will of my words
Remember that one night
When I left my mark on his skin.
This manuscript is no frilly romance
More vengeance for having been kicked to the kerb
Would he dare to publish my words?