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O f B r u i s e d P e a c h e s a n d M o n s t e r s
By: S e r p e n t s V a n i t y

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Fingers curl cruelly like claws; bars forcing
me in place. His tongue burns a wet, fiery
trail along my flesh branding me; I am
his. Eyes pierce; condescending; undress

my body with his mind. Exposing me
with a venomous glare and promises
of violation to come. Fists pound in
meat, breaking bones and immobilizing

Teeth grinding; metal on metal. Whore, he
says, jerking my collar and my body
wrenches forward with each thrust. Burning red
hot, "claimed" he called it. I don’t know where I

am but I feel what I am becoming.
What my reaction will be when day dawns
When the mirror won’t recognize me. My
face hiding behind dark clouds; a bruised peach.