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


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



he tells me i'm innocent when i finish,

stroking my hair gently and i shake my head


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