Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Aug 2017
"Write about me," she said.

No. How could I?
I felt nothing.
I was nothing.
Putty in her hands,
just another boy in her bed.
Another notch on her bedpost
Another night she wanted head.

With all honesty, I was only
here because I wanted the same:
to dive in quick and after,
still feel sane.

"Stop writing about me," you said.

No.
zak
Written by
zak  sg
(sg)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems