Your hand print graces my thighs this time,
Lucky me.
Last week it was my cheek,
Yesterday it was my neck.
I breathe harshly,
Sometimes not at all because you like me better when I'm silent.
My words fall hushed in my throat,
Hidden behind your hands because you seem to think they will start a war within you.
My screams fall silent as tears start to stream,
Your passion leaves bruises on my skin,
Your love leaves blood dripping from my body.
My body is no long mine, but yours,
And you think it's meant for using.
At 4 am.
You spread me open and take a dip into my treasure,
And now you'll be the pirate and conquer all of me.
By 6 am,
My body lay still,
My heart thumping rapidly,
My mind blank,
Yet still there are a thousand thoughts.
You stand,
Clothing yourself in cotton, a smirk on your face when you see the salty tears that stream like rivers in the spring time.
By 7 am,
I still lay because you're not here,
And when you're not here I have no purpose.
Without you there is no one to cater to,
You love me.
But not how I want.
You love me.
But not the way I thought you would
You love me.
But the bruises turn to wounds,
The wounds turn to scars.
You love me.
But my breathing doesn't matter unless it's underwater and you're the shark that captures me.
You love me.
But love is painful, yes that is true,
Pain is not a choice,
But suffering through this love will be damned.
YOU ARE READING
Woman.
PoetryA book of poems and feelings. A book from a girl, a rose from the concrete. A Woman growing.
