An: This is not a perfect poem by an means, but today I'm hardly in the mood to attempt to write perfect poetry.
What do you see when you look at me?
Trembling mouth, eager to please?
Easy girl, down on her knees?
What do you feel when you're done with me?
Do you feel shame, regret or do you feel free?
Light as a feather, or heavy as smoke?
Do you feel powerful when you ask me to choke,
On your thick, weapon?
I fear the sensation, but I'll do it for you.
I offer my body as a sacrifice, whenever you ask me to.
I say your name like its a precious gift,
wrapping each letter around my tongue with care.
You entice my emotions to emerge from the fog,
This feat in itself, is rare.
My hands hunger to trace every inch of your skin,
but my fingertips glide along your body as though brushing against delicate glass.
You're bones are as visible as mine, you say your demons are as dark,
I fear if I don't bend to your will, your sanity will crash and tumble and fall.
You speak words that strike a chord within me,
And I'm convinced we're bonded over mutual sympathy.
Skin against skin, breath mingled together,
I crave this, I need this, I want you forever.
With you, I learn love transforms pale colours into vivid brightness.
With me, you learn you enjoy the feeling of Virgin tightness.
As I beg to be yours, you whisper crude words.
You love play pretend; begged me to wear a skirt.
I'm your pretty little whore, so you'd have me believe.
And I'm so blinded by love, so easily deceived.
I don't see it's an act, that you just came to fuck.
I'm too busy being deluded, to see your rejection as luck.
The bright colours will have faded, the last time we meet.
On that night, I'll learn that a monster sleeps between your sheets.
Though there'll still be a flicker, of the powerful flame,
Despite the regret, and alongside the shame.
Your words will be a gun laced with sugar,
Your hands will redefine the meaning of the word trigger.
Your actions will prove, that you feel only lust,
And your bedroom will be the murder scene of my trust.
But that night is yet to come, right now I am willing and wanting.
For now, I am safe from your brutal haunting.
In this moment, I ask; what do you see when you look at me?
My body is the faulty lock, your member the key.
Your moans rush heavy, too menacing, too loud.
But I don't yet know, to fear those sounds.
So when you say you care, I'll believe your lies.
Though I'll admit, it did hurt, that you wouldn't look me in the eyes.