Holding hips, gripped by escasty he split my back,
and burrowed deep.
Grunts a language low enough for me,
conversation lost.
To dirty Speak.
Spinning my silk he props my legs on his shoulders, eyes grinning.
How do i feel?
Like the child i am?
The woman im becoming?
...or the whore you made me?
I sit against the headboard, porceline cheeks, flushed.
My mouth open...he invades, infests, inflames, bursts.
brilliance,
he thought.
Not for me, not for us.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Very deep...but I do know where you are coming from! Like the rawness of emotion here and the self hate, alongside the bitter anger. Nicely done!
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Stunning. . . absolutely stunning. I love the matter-of-factly tone about it and the sense of anger not just at him but a slight loathing of yourself for letting it happen. Beautiful!
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This is an intriguing piece and i guess you would have to be there,lol
imagery is quite vivid yet i got the feeling you're bored or somethiong,lol
Anyways a good piece of poetry, much to ponder
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