Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
amber-sPoems
i've known the boys like him, the boys with the gentle eyelashes and the lip petals and spikes. he touches my hair, twirls it in his fingers. i am always nothing more to them. i want to be earthquakes and avalanches, yet i fold, becoming the beers in their guts, the ash on their tongues. but the way his tongue finds my pelvic bones, how his calluses kiss my bruises. his scent echoes inside my pillows, denial like ***** bordering my throat thick. the boys want my skin, to flay and wear it. i am a prize, shiny and golden, and he is licking my insides, my blood and guts. like wine, on his mouth, dripping down his chest. i see how he stares at others, calculating and timing, but in the end i am the one, bent over, the one he says he loves. (to **** and i wonder if this will always be this. nights tasting like cider and *** knees scabbed and bleeding and scabbed and bleeding. he never touches me outside the bedroom, his fingers glued to the bike handles. i want to cut him open and see what's really inside.
0
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 4:40 AM UTC
boys
i've known the boys like him, the boys with the gentle eyelashes and the lip petals and spikes. he touches my hair, twirls it in his fingers. i am always nothing more to them. i want to be earthquakes and avalanches, yet i fold, becoming the beers in their guts, the ash on their tongues. but the way his tongue finds my pelvic bones, how his calluses kiss my bruises. his scent echoes inside my pillows, denial like ***** bordering my throat thick. the boys want my skin, to flay and wear it. i am a prize, shiny and golden, and he is licking my insides, my blood and guts. like wine, on his mouth, dripping down his chest. i see how he stares at others, calculating and timing, but in the end i am the one, bent over, the one he says he loves. (to **** and i wonder if this will always be this. nights tasting like cider and *** knees scabbed and bleeding and scabbed and bleeding. he never touches me outside the bedroom, his fingers glued to the bike handles. i want to cut him open and see what's really inside.
amber-s
Written by
amber-s
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 4:40 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem