My clothing brushes softly against my skin
as the pole grows warm under my tight grip
I look to you to see if you approve
your eyes show you do my shirt starts to move,
down it goes falling off one shoulder then the next
my lace exposed your lips twitch with fear
but my face becomes soft and your excitement comes to play
in my six inch heels and my fishnets, I am the display.

Your nails carving out my inner thighs
as your fingers move their way upward
goosebumps rising on every limb
your mouth moves down away from my lips
I feel your warmth don't let it stop
I pull your hair
guiding you where I want you most
you take the hint your skin I feel it
I'm full of light in the dark room wrapped up
in these white sheets with you.

I was so warm when I was with you,
you surrounded me with light,
you helped me find happiness in the rotting cracks,
I found love between the pages of books with you,
it's all burned away now.

I should write about it,
I should write about you,
the way you left me,
your best friend,
without any reason,
with accusations thrown like knives
to protect yourself from the cuts
slashed into my back instead
the scars that spell out your name
veins left severed to bleed
stain my white sheets red now when I try to rest.

I asked myself if I did that,
as if I had been sitting here before.
"Was that me? Why don't I remember doing this?"
and I think who it was who sat here before me,
where are they now, how was their life affected by
drawing two lines on a desk,
what knowledge were they
distracting themselves from learning?
How did my life change by fixing the line
so that it was straight?
Why is any of this significant?

Collar Bones
Hip Bones
Shoulder Blades
Spine.

Keeping a safe distance,
although I don't know why,
when all I want is to stop her fingers
from writing notes
with fingers that are mine.