A desperate impulse sparks inside the folds
of satin sheets that never crease for long.

I tried to change the slimy quilt that sold
my soul to worthless nights where lust belongs

But night time falls.

Consumed with need that aches
and conquers pride, I ride into the night
to seek my prince to banish the mistakes
I made with dukes on dark and silky nights.

But rumpled clothes of love are cleaned and hung
on hangers ready to be worn again,
and tearful eyes from mornings after wrung out
and dried with powder-painted skill by ten.

I wish I could have bought a cotton sheet,
but silk remains a sheer, addictive treat.

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