the poet's quill wrote about
the merit of free
expression  
never would it become
a prisoner of
repression  

the poet's quill being enduring
of its staunch
belief
that to stymie liberty's voice could
cause but
grief

the poet's quill did
not shy
away
its purpose was intent on conveying
in an unfettered
way

trigger warning: abuse

here it is again,
that familiar feeling
of subjugation

bruised wrists
lips
hips
so desperately missing that aching sensation,
the one which shows that he loves you
enough to use your body as a canvas
for his masterpieces

but this time
you fight back

and this angers him
for your body is not small
enough

to fit in the
palm of his hand

he tries

but your long curls spill from his palm
and wrap around his arms,
slithering upwards
tightening around his neck

eyelashes like blades
carving and scraping out each artery
one by one

seas of cellulite gushing
and flooding into his
mouth

submerging him deep
under the rivers
of your divine revulsion

he usually isn’t the type of man
to surrender

but the way roaring screams are
being ripped from his throat
and the way his usually
black eyes transform
into white flags
prove that
you are strong enough to
change everything.