Worn down nails,
rough and ridged.
Islands of colour float
in a pool of unwanted expectation.
Small pieces of skin stand proud.
Trail down my frame,
with your cardboard ogre hands.
Black prickles tickle your material,
poking out from minuscule crevices
you wanted to believe did not exist.
I am not preparing myself for your pleasure.
Your gaze through tinted roses,
giving you a wanted expectation.
Well, i'll be an exception.
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 10:26 AM UTC
Worn down nails,
rough and ridged.
Islands of colour float
in a pool of unwanted expectation.
Small pieces of skin stand proud.
Trail down my frame,
with your cardboard ogre hands.
Black prickles tickle your material,
poking out from minuscule crevices
you wanted to believe did not exist.
I am not preparing myself for your pleasure.
Your gaze through tinted roses,
giving you a wanted expectation.
Well, i'll be an exception.
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