I.
I take your half of brain
(Or 99% the feminists would say)
And take it in my palms and watch it grow
In sheer delight of movement and life
Slipping the velvety worm through the
Cracks of my teeth and purring with pleasure
Like a cat waiting for the cream.
II.
This fate must have slowly crept up on us
Because my body now makes you tiresome
And the lack of stimulation makes you shrivel up
And die.
III.
The curves of my hip are no longer sexy
And my face is no longer the epitome of the Mona Lisa's smile
The round of my ass, and the way my breasts jaunt in a bra
No longer tease you with every step
So I watch as it grows flaccid and weak
And rejects me within seconds.
IV.
"I guess you'll be watching porn again", I whisper
As I leave, tears slipping into cracks where so much love
Used to be.
You don't answer, just roll over annoyed and flick on the TV.
As I leave, I hear you masturbating to mannequin harlots
And silently pray you choke to death
On the pleasure.
YOU ARE READING
Black Coffee
Poesía"Normality is an illusion. What is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly"- Anon. In life we tenderly bloom, slowly shrivel and then die like flowers. This small collection of poetry reveals human emotion from a number of different perspectives...
