Raw illness rubs up
Against the wet meat of my
Indecisive tongue
and
I am sick with the
Taste of his filthy fingers
Snagging on my jaw
and
Honeysuckles bloom
Around the places that kept
Me from crying out
and
The air was too sweet
To explain why his breath felt
Like death’s brand across
My arched and aching
Spine. He ripped open my soft
Flesh and consumed me.
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 2:52 PM UTC
Raw illness rubs up
Against the wet meat of my
Indecisive tongue
and
I am sick with the
Taste of his filthy fingers
Snagging on my jaw
and
Honeysuckles bloom
Around the places that kept
Me from crying out
and
The air was too sweet
To explain why his breath felt
Like death’s brand across
My arched and aching
Spine. He ripped open my soft
Flesh and consumed me.
