deepundergroundpoetry.com

I don't love you, darlin'

It's midnight and you are gone
having blown up my cell for hours;
I'm still that first choice in a long line
of biblical screw-ups
 
cause baby got a touch of fuck about her
it bends her over the desk most nights,
her ankles holding her panties to ransom  
as she stands desperate
all toothpick heels
and nowhere to party
 
until she's banging my headboard  
with my useless skull and those thighs
are gripping my hips in a bone vice
knee-deep in wet disappointment.  
 
She told me she loved me once,
and I told her not to fucking lie
 
pushed her back against the door
gagged her with her ripped shirt,
because it was easier to fill her silence
than listen to another bullshit story
about how feelings fuel the world
 
and I don't love you, darlin'
you and your ricocheting emptiness
starving the joy right out of my cock,
you and your dismay overloading
into this cesspool of moisture
we somehow call a life
 
for I have memorized your flavor
your bitter-sweet burn of regret
wounding my throat with melancholy  
one gash after the next  
until bleeding, we explode
in the scarlet arms of our fears
 
and my girl I would rather  
drink myself to death
than have you murder me
one exhibitionist orgasm  
at a single
fucking
time.
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