17 years old and a
Delight to behold in
My tiny crimson dress,
It swinging pirouettes
At the top of my thighs,
My breasts all
Awash with strobe lights
And my laugh an innocent
One of happiness of moments
Away from the hamster cage
And the roulette wheel
Of abuse.
I recall the way your body
Moved across the dance-floor
Like a shark with a taste of blood
In its jaws
And the way you pressed your
Cock against my leg as your hands
Fumbled up towards my knickerline-
An evident covet for your fingertips
And your serpentine tongue.
The way I recoiled from you
Shocked at your manhood
Should have spoken volumes
And looking back
I should have shot you
Down dead in an instant.
But an angel fought you back
Instead with words
And height
And like the rightful coward
You were
You slunk back into the ether
And bought me a coke
In apology instead.
You are still duly unforgiven.
YOU ARE READING
Black Coffee
Poetry"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...
