Pockets

On the back of most pants they are found,

Some have two, others three, and others none

Some travel on the front of shirts and tees,

Others seem to be, but are mere trimmings

In most are coins that birth chime, paper money or other pockets in the form of a wallet

Others are empty, while others carry the simple lip ointment

In others are keys locked to their chains,

While within others lies objects i would rather indirectly name... Oh fuck!

Gels, beads and protectors, things useful in between lovers

Pockets...

So full of use and so full in use

Mine, on the back of pants remain empty,

The ones on the sides dictated upon by whether i’m hurried or traipsing,

the former carry my phone and the mere lip ointment,

while the latter cocoon my hands and allow me thigh sensation

These, the various & overt pockets we know

However, the same and secret pockets of the heart

Seem to welcome the rush of blood at the thought of you...