Silly girl,
now why on earth,
would I want you for
more than merely
one night.
Pit stop
for my hands,
as many other hands of men,
have penetrated your fair skin.
ask
how many bodies have you
ruined, with those pious hands
and question,
what is wrong with a man's hands
other than their own,
in which they use as instruments of
destruction, instead
of love.
YOU ARE READING
Existent
PoetryHighest rank: #23 In poetry. A compilation of Poems about love, heart break, depression and everything in between really. Black, white, and of course, a dose of grey.
