Poems from Sam Newman

His lips touch mine; they nip and pull, and although I see sweet succulent lips characteristic of a woman, I feel a man’s powerful grip...
I’m sorry things turned sour. Sorry our quick talks rolled to an hour. I’m sorry that things got messed up. Sorry I acted like a lost pup...
Could I go back in time and speak to myself I would choose the Samantha of four or five years. I would pick her up from her neon red and...
The door slams and my heart hurts The inexplicable feeling of dread that permeates through my body as I hear another door shut The sound is...
I sit in a white room It has a sterile fume Everything is without color Including myself, who by the minute feels smaller. However, as if...