You abandoned my cold body
On the bed
When you were done with her
When you finished licking every curve
Sucking out every ounce of life
Her lips between your teeth
Bleeding
Are you satiated yet?
You left her pile of limbs
Perfectly still
After you injected your poison
And it spread to her insides
Eating at her organs.
Your job here is done.
Are you happy yet?
My body wants to know.
Ah, but you say flesh does not comprehend.
Does skin not feel warmth
That radiates within
Does holding a body
Not make your heart feel whole.
I do not want to be the kind of woman
Who is your prostitute.
I want to be the girl
Who you can call “wife”.
About the Creator
Sara
Don’t look for love.
Be love.
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A Glaring Omission
I made peace with being cast out by others pretty early in life. As lonely as it may sound, I don’t recall many times during childhood when those actions affected me any longer than a moment or two. Being deemed the weird/gay/weird gay freak by everyone from neighborhood kids to blood relatives allowed me the privilege of sneaking away whenever I pleased to dive deeper into hobbies that molded the proud pop culture geek and writer I am today.
By Jonathan Apollo5 days ago in Psyche
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