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deepundergroundpoetry.com

The only thing I liked about you was the sight of your tongue on my hypothalamus

I'm working my shit
with both hands and  
a blowtorch,  
trying to get off  
past that block...  
trying to get off  
that...
  
trying to  
get  
 
off  
 
And I'm stuck.  
 
Right there.  
 
Right where you used  
to lay your lying mouth  
and suck my  
insecurity until  
I screamed  
 
I feel like I could  
shove my whole hand  
in the slick folds of  
my mind,  
slap that little  
nib on my  
amygdala,  
and still lay here  
 
just lay here,  
 
mildly aroused,  
unusually bored,  
and praying it won't  
burn when I piss  
 
And the damndest thing  
of it all is:  
   
I made you.  
 
I made you lie.  
Made you love.  
Made you stick your tongue in my  
ass and tell me  
how sexy it was when  
I moaned your name.  
 
And I made your replacement.  
 
And hers.  
And his,  
And theirs,  
And mine,  
until all the tongues  
and all the lies  
now taste  
like you.  
 
But you were only  

water,  
 
tasting of  
nothing  
at all.
Written by Betty
Published | Edited 30th May 2022
Author's Note
Why isn't 'fuck off' or 'fuck it all' or 'balls' a theme?
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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Commenting Preference: 
The author encourages honest critique.

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