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deepundergroundpoetry.com

Innocent Face, Wonderful Tissue.

 
   
Your stars align with the closing of his drapes   
as he traces, traces lines of your waist
and he laps it up with the tongue that rapes.   
   
When you were a child it was locked on videotapes   
and used as you watched your innocence waste.   
Your stars align with the closing of his drapes.   
   
From glass pane you watch young lads run in capes   
Run, run! His wine has that bitter taste   
and he laps it up with the tongue that rapes.   
   
Silver crucifix around your neck, like your broken hymen, gapes.   
Silly Christian! Once pure and chaste.   
Your stars align with the closing of his drapes.   
   
Close your legs while your mind escapes.    
Oh, that clever mind acts with haste   
and he laps it up with the tongue that rapes.   
   
Tell the vicar as he mends your scrapes,   
whisper, quietly, of your silent disgrace.   
Your stars align with the closing of his drapes   
and he laps it up with the tongue that rapes.   
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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