trust ≠ weakness
He fucks me into the mattress.
Am I being blunt?
He buries me alive in sheets that smell like lavender. I try to dig myself out, through skin and skin and skin but he holds me under
Keeps me suffocating so the only air I can breathe is his slight exhale
When I've almost died he drags me back to reality with his teeth and traps me with his tongue.
In retrospect, I bend and break for him.
My back arches to meet his ribs, flickering under his taut skin like a grainy movie.
I let his hands squeeze me dry while his hips become the home for my legs.
His arms are a cage around my head but for once, I do not desire freedom.
I'm stripped raw.
He sees me
He sees me
His fingernails are caked in blood and my flesh is lying on the floor but
finally
I have shed my costume.
He could break my bones in his hands
He could tear my muscles with his teeth
But all he does is grip my heart in one hand and my throat in the other.
I have never trusted like this.
This poem is about:
Me