You put your hands on me.
Frequently.
Sometimes I feel like I can't say no.
If I say no, you'll just get up and go.
Sometimes I lie there, on the verge of tears while you run your hands across my skin.
I just want to cuddle.
But you say "Baby please. Just once."
Then I begin to struggle.
I become emotionally and physically drained.
Although you have gained another O.
I just want to get to know you.
Although you frequently want me to blow you.
Another day came, but this time, you went.
I feel your hands on me, like the hotness of Hades.
Your hands are made of fire.
YOU ARE READING
My Shitty Poetry, That is the Inside of My Mind
PoetryHi, I'm the socially anxious, depressed, fucked up girl in the back of the class. This is a look into the inside of my brain. The depths of the depression and anxiety. I'll be using the art of poetry. Please enjoy. ***Some poems are older, but will...
