Hands. Skin on skin,
Sweat on sweat.
Bleeding gums and the taste of regret.
The smell of vodka is heavy on our breaths.
Hands. Welcome, unwelcome.
Treated the same,
The bodies of us, moving and still.
The air around us will bring us our deaths.
Hands. Cold and displeasing,
You try to warm me but your hands are freezing.
Tell me what's going through your head,
Sick pleasure mixed with dread.
Hands. Mocking me in silence,
Tasting my dreams then spitting them on the floor.
Do you think I'd really want you through this door?
Mud soiled like my hope.
Hands. Leave me alone.
Do you really think I'd treat this like home?
The air is still, your voice is soft.
You curse the air I breathe.
Your hands are never still.
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Sad Poems | A Collection of Poems Written by I
PoetrySometimes a story can be told in just a few lines.
