He shoves himself down
My shrivelled folds
With the subtlety of a famished beast
Scavenging his bowl
Yearning for more.
A lover and a whore.
He clamps down hard
Squeezing my tongue into oblivion
and I taste the clammy salt
of sugarcoated perversion
And grip the sharper corners of the sheets
And stare at the fan
Willing his body
To swing from it.
How often had we seen the sun
Kiss the waves like an alighting firefly?
That is how this is really.
Except I can't kiss you back
Like the ocean.
For I'm sure even the Sun
Asks for permission.
I had a voice once.
I had it drowned
Amid the flightless folds
of my gown,
In the ceaseless creases of repentence.
Just another voice
Smothered by
a grunt.
A voice,
That never made it
To the tongue.
YOU ARE READING
Blots
Poetry[On hold] Key: |Straight Brackets| - Poetry. \Tilted Brackets/ - Passionate, Vaguely Poetic Prose or Free Verse. ~Wave Brackets~ - Poetry specifically between 1 and 3 sentences in length. ☆☆ For everyone, Who finds, Not in a graveyard or cretamorium...
