Pry

The drapery hides the sins inside
And drip dry our depravity
Wet with the wanton destruction
Soaked in the shameless ecstasy of
endless spasms within her
Drenched with lustful slippery spit
and running mascara
Flooded with tears
Each droplet different
Most, from pain.
Pry, if you will, back the drapery
pry aside and peek inside
Smell the dew of lust
The mist of submission
When the drapery slides
back into place