The drink has me, and I am frozen in your eyes,

I kiss your lips, and the silence rings,

In your arms, where I have felt safe so many years,

Your nails and teeth sink into my flesh.

I tell you ‘No, not like this’, so you pin me to the bed,

Your perfect little angel, with perfect broken wings.

With your knees you hold apart my legs,

As you force yourself inside, one strong hand holds my fragile wrists,

My pride won’t let me cry.

My jaws are locked against the scream that swells against my chest,

With your free hand around my throat, I suppose you know me best.

Rougher now, no love in your touch, you finally make me scream.

Raking my sharp nails across your skin to watch the scarlet flow,

A twisted smile distorts my face; at least the world will know.

I am your perfect little whore, with perfect broken dreams.