deepundergroundpoetry.com

Fall

It's autumn,        
I watch my face morph in the reflection of the lake that way I have something to blame when I don't recognize that face        
       
It's autumn,        
I learn he is married and he is already undressing me        
       
Leaving what feels like my bare bones naked    
     
exposed without permission to be skinned alive        
       
It's autumn,        
The tree's are lying next to me        
       
I drift off and my body stays in character, awake, obedient to the intruder, "good bitch"        
       
It's autumn,        
I wonder if his hands feel like this to her too    
Cuticles rough with passion pretending to be passion  
 
If he feels like a trespasser you let in     
       
It's autumn,        
The trees are dying next to me       
       
I wonder how she takes her coffee everything I look at mine,        
     
I can't seem to stop pouring for her too        
       
I hear the beauty of her name in every breath he temporarily holds captive,        
And I dream of her in glass jars and in the bottom of the ocean, safe and out of his reach        
       
It's autumn,        
He must have mastered the art of skinning because the trees have turned to bone so quickly        
       
If she too can feel him under her nails and sewn in between her eyelashes when he has removed himself from in between her thighs        
       
Cunts the grand prize        
       
He has buried himself in her deepest parts and there is no room for her there too        
       
It's autumn,        
There is not enough room for all these bones        
       
My body is starting to feel less and less like a body and more like a body bag that breathes,        
And I am no longer worried if he goes too hard on me        
       
I hear the silence screaming at me in the space inbetween his moans, "Have you reached the bottom yet? Felt the texture of the floor and the darkest parts you hide from yourself? Have you girl?!"        
       
It's autumn,        
You hide from yourself        
You..you must mimic the sun        
There is beauty in that        
       
He tells me he missed me,  
the touch of us,  
that he loved the thought  
 
I punched him in the mouth that had tried to devour me whole and admired his red        
       
His very own shade of autumn        
       
It's fall,        
I fell and I did not notice        
But at least I am not alone lying of the floor        
       
It's autumn,        
The trees have died with a piece of me,        
       
And I guess there is beauty in that too        
 
Written by Damselinhandcuffs
Published | Edited 7th Jun 2023
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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