i am to you, a rag doll
i am limp and frail in your
wide hands.
when the mood is right you will
caress me with soft
tenderness.
your lips will brush my forehead
as my limbs tingle.
otherwise
your words will leave purple marks
on my arms.
they will be powerful.
and they will sting.
i taste the blood in my mouth
wondering.
i know this is my fault
i never meant it.
but confusion clouds my vision

for how, my sweet, can i make you rage
when i have given you everything?

you cut out my heart, and i see it
sit in a pretty jar
you pressed your lips to mine
and ****** out my soul
it floats behind you, never leaving

how?how?how?

for you own every inch of me
you throw me down.
i taste the dirt and
for a minute
i cannot breathe
and for a minute
i believe i have died
and for a minute
i wanted you with me
in the soil
with my arms wrapped around you.

how, my darling?
for you are my world
you are my universe

i am just your rag doll
limp and frail
i wish to taste your lips
and taste nothing else.

but you. you. you.

oh, my darling.
you refuse me.

and for a minute
the dirt looks oh so inviting.