"You rest your head upon my breast, listen to my heart race.
You trace lines upon my chest, but I lie still, dreaming in a dreamless state.
Felt your fingers trod up my neck, up to my lips they did caress.
The cup now spills, dripping wet...
Yet, my mind just yearns to forget.
It is your firm, but gentle touch; a gesture that omits my movement.
It is what I crave so much, a momentary arousing deviation.
Of curled feet, arched backs, and air of sweet,
You will sing at my release.
But your soft hands are gone, now wrinkly and spotted grey.
And I know now that he has won, as all my efforts dissipate.
A spot now forms beneath my skin, a stain as thick as blood.
I cannot wash it out or in, so I leave it as it was.
Opened eyes release streams of tears, but it was just a dream.
She is the one sleeping next to me here, it is not really him.
Before I sleep in these hours awake, I must accept that it is done.
For I am nineteen years of age, not the eight year old girl you’ve undone."
I cannot sleep. I'm having these bad dreams again and all I can do about them is write stupid, depressing shit like this.
mkp.
