There are worse places,
little girl. Worse hells.
This isn’t one of them.
There are depths you haven’t yet seen,
where the dive alone
would **** you.
The sea monster of my depths,
curled still, and waiting,
waiting for me.
I imagine his hand on my ***.
I imagine all the trespasses
I would never let happen
(never again).
There is the scene of the crime—
I’ll be there once again—
I’ll take a photograph of it
again—
where he knew,
despite the hand that he let caress
its way downward, despite
his fingers that fumbled
towards ecstasy,
he knew—
he knew
that he never should have touched me.