That pretty doll, so sad today in mottled scraps of color-fade. She owns her shelf, on morose ledge, the world forgot its hardy pledge... To keep her close, and on display, so here she sits, alone, today.
An ache, inside of hollowed cloth, grants fate its final, flawless toss. Despair erodes a driven need- ('tis no small feat, she cannot bleed) Dreams she's gathered, never unfold. She's told to sit, she's told and told... If one might come and dust away, debris' fine work in heart's decay.. She'd paint a smile upon...
Some days I crave to shed this skin from contretemps I wallow in. Extirpate, and then peel them off. Compile a pore-pile, loss by loss.. Into the water- toss. toss. toss. Next comes me..(the bone, in sauce.)
Of all those massive fleshy links. (a twisted skein of water-sink) I choke 'em down, drink by drink, so full now, I brush on brink.
I toss in shame and that pile grows, as puddle becomes a waterhole! I tread currents, kicking with haste.. (a managed gulp, that salty taste)
I drop down bold, draping the bed, roll to tummy, whisper of wet. I glance back at you, in shiny-stare.. One slim shoulder, tilted in tease, my pale toes winking, in midair. Body soft, in wake of my bare.
You settle behind, layer me line for line. Warm with kisses, fine-tossed up my back across my face.. Teeth and tongue at neck as we skin-mingle in taste.
I arc my submission in whimpers under and through you. Palm pressed upon me, you enter my smallest tight place.. ...