Image for the poem Behind Closed Doors

Behind Closed Doors

I trust him but he doesn't trust me.

I guess...

a string of loose whores dangling from his past can do that to a man.

All we have are precious moments, there is no future.

In a way, hes no different to those whores but I don't mind when we touch, if he uses me hard until the feeling of being freshly fucked can be identified in the ongoing pulsation that's forthcoming as I remain tender and swollen.

Hoping, for another moment to unfold as he pounds me senseless until my common sense diminishes, and Im gasping for breath as he leaves me gaping.
The touch of his hand, and the need within his kiss tells me more than words, unspoken.
Written by shadow_starzzz
Author's Note
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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