his fingers whip my hair into a liquid chain

and pull me into his hipbones

and i gasp through my nose for air.

he whispers and i can't hear but i know it

was meant to be seductive.

can't he see he's already caught me?

-

there's nothing beautiful in the ways i'm

up high 'cause they all involve my throat

swallowing down something illegal,

burning with a shot of lust and southern

comfort.

at least that's what he calls it.

-

my fingernails tear at the white sheets and

i think my eyeliner is smearing onto

his skin but his hands are stronger than my

heart and i

take it with all the strength i tried to have

before.

-

he tells me i'm innocent when i finish,

stroking my hair gently and i shake my head

vehemently.

i want to explain, it's not innocence, it's submission.