I remember the heat of him as he would
Push up against me, Gin-fouled and
Smelling of Camel Wides. “I love you, baby,”
He would say. “You stink,” I would remark.
He would give the bar-story of a
Thousand words that would drip sour
Onto my breasts, as he moved
Closer to my lips. “Stop, I don’t want to.”
I would push. He would pull and snuggle
Into the side of my neck, hoarse-whispering
The reasons why I should. “You’re drunk, stop.”
“Oh, come on, baby. I love you.” He would
Convince me that I owed him. My mind would
Empty. My body would open. My soul would
Pour out, dry and brittle, so over-used, leaving me
Hollow and cold. Shame and humiliation would
Enter with him, gnaw at me,
Devour me with sharp, jagged teeth.
****
Image Source: Pixabay
Raw and elegant at the same time… I love your verse. – tsk
LikeLike
Thank you.
LikeLiked by 1 person