Rolling down your
I am a prick of blood.
Your eyes stare through the invisible wound.
Blood and mascara stain my sheets
by your blankets,
I cry a sob of fear.
Our lust overtakes all moral reason.
An uncanny warmth fils our bodies.
I am a tremble of earth.
Thunderstorms send static through our veins.
All traces of pain are hidden.
in silent rage,
I repress the need of desire.
My legs are crossed; my hands are folded.
Only I feel the bruise.