etching
spiked in your drink for
a night you never wanted;
your legs pushed open
as your mind closed shut.
they say sex is all about receptive communication
but he didn't care,
he didn't want your permission;
the lack of approval is what made his groans
loud.
convinced that power was to rush through the
strength of his veins,
ignorant to the fact he had joined a colony
for the weakest of men
in the whole fucking world.
lulling us outward
as the fingertips express what the utterances of
the mere mouth cannot.
tongue lining against the top lip
with concentration
this melody is for you and
my goodness,
if it is even half as gorgeous
as the way you look
in this half light sunrise
then it will be a
piano perfection.