A series of clicks- you’re undoing your belt
Coins jingle as your jeans crumple to the floor
Pocket change
I have a blindfold on and you’re whispering something about
‘Art’
But I part my lips and hold my breath and wait for it to be over
Giving head to an image of pinched plastic perfection
And you make low noises in your throat while I clench my fists
Fingernails digging into my skin leaving
Tiny half-moons of blood across my palm...
But i’m going to take this with my head held at least waist-high
And you can bet your life
I’m going to swallow.
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1 comment:
Went through all your words yesterday. Let me repeat it in my head.
Hit www.3rdthought.com
Would love to have you as one of the writing artists in the 3rd Community.
Shaxeb S.
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