my body belongs to the late night radio station.
cry my eyes out to Lou Reed, because i'll always be his candy.
hips side to side for my mirror.
lie on the bed or lie to me, what difference does it make?
late night does taste different, more satisfaction.
the morning tastes the same, yesterdays candle, tomorrows lover, scratch the walls to feel sane.
oh my lover, my hateful twisted man-child of a lover, play my favourite record for me, sing for me, dance for the sake of loving me.
loud music drains out my womanly emotions.
the kind of emotions a man can't understand.
the vision of nothing isn't a dark shade at all, the gap between me and my body are growing tall.
thinner, longer. hopeless, endless.
close the door, cover the mirror but keep the radio station on.
i might not be intact but my body belongs.
YOU ARE READING
lover illusion
Poetrywhatever you want, please take it. may my own desires be thrown away, take my heart, soul, and body with intention. take it all.
