my mind is bleeding
ambrosia
spilling from the yawning depths of my ear canals
splattering on the white cotton bedsheets
as we lay desperately apart
i want to know Him
every jagged edge of His
rocky surface
like the razor-tipped crescent moon
ever distant
i am begging
i am begging
i am begging
- ©️ Mars Saturnia
YOU ARE READING
He
Poetrywhat did He do to you? He- [a collection of classical and sexual poems about Him] © 2024 Mars Saturnia [Lowercase and capitalisation of "He/Him/His intended]
