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Olivia Durand Jun 2019
I beg you

reach out your tongue

and caress me with your words.

Soothe me with your hum.

I want to be enfolded in

the licks of

your love.

 

But your tongue sits

heavy in your mouth

stuck between

contempt and

apathy.

 

Only ever touching me with

it's brutal lashing.

I wish I didn't love

the sight of blood.

— The End —