Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Feb 2016
He stayed in my bed when I told him to leave
and he would not listen.
He grabbed the hair I should have cut
and his fingers felt like thinning shears.
He kissed the lips I wished were poison
but he did not wither (only I did, under my now filthy white sheets).
He undressed me, taking off the shirt I borrowed from my best friend,
and did not understand why I wanted to crawl out of my skin.
He stayed in my bed when I asked him to leave, again,
and he would not listen.
His hands trespassed on holy land.
Written by
Madison  New Jersey
(New Jersey)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems