Sex in tents gets intense
Tranny was breathing fast
She was breathing slow
His dick was out
And she didn't know how to say now
She grasped her hand around it
And he tried to hold her hand
But she didn't want him to touch her
In case she snapped like a rubber band
So as his breathing fastened
Her hand hurried up
And the nylon of the tent
Couldn't have kept her soul shut
It swung open
As wide as a broken tents doors
His sticky white mess
Was all he did best
A representation
Of the disgust
Of the Hatred
she didn't have
Just the bitter disappointment
Of the bitter smell of alcohol
And the dirty tissues thrown away
That took her heart with it/ them
Later that day
As they sat around a fire
And her hands still didn't feel clean
Washed ten times over
The tissues gone in an anonymous bin somewhere else miles away by now
Because the wind carries well after the bin men take the scraps
It carries your voice
It carries her soul
The tent is clean
Her mind is not
The tent is clean
Her hands are clean
She is clean
And he is clean too
But the words she wants to find
Have got lost in the dark
And she cant seem to find them
Because the moonlights gone behind a cloud
And she just doesn't know the way out
From here
In the middle of nowhere
With friends that aren't really hers.
YOU ARE READING
Days of my life
Teen FictionDays that she's have lived through Days she hasn't forgotten Its time to reclaim her life That she left in them days All feedback welcome, if you plan to be kind!
