you hurt me like his stubble
it was just sharp enough to cut my greedy lips
you are faint, irrelevant to the naked eye,
but when your cleanliness prompts further inspection,
there you lie, erect like a dagger.
your touch, although awarded under different circumstances
is just like his
comforting, like a warm fire.
but then, greedy: it tries to warm the parts of me that i didn't think hurt.
with each limb he caressed, my muscles adamantly pleaded me to stop his hand.
but lust doesn't listen.
not to anything.
YOU ARE READING
Confession|ACR 2
PoetryConfession is a poetry anthology that seeks to unnerve and evolve the contemporary style through its brutal analysis of the issues that plague the young, modern zeitgeist. Its judicial theme of confession creates an unforgiving and relentless pace t...
