Last night, when you whispered

to me the crispiest story of the day

I laughed with a colorless reaction-

You stared into my eyes,

a thirsty tiger waiting

to be quenched.

I pushed you away from me

but you stood behind me-

Leaning, pushing your body harder

to mine-

from the time

you drew your hands into

my shirt-

I could feel your cold bare hands


nurturing each of my

full grown fruits of pleasure-

You kissed them with your ambitious lips,

imagined them by your ecstasied* eyes…

We breathe, we stopped,

we were in a brief hiatus-

surrounding us were white curtains,


with tempos beating, beats from our

Tainted hearts.

I moan for forgiveness,

I cry for bliss,

I envy the goddesses-

We cry in tears.

When things were done,

I clasped my bra and

put on my skirt

and so with my white sticky shirt,

a spit from your nicotined* mouth

tarnished my shirt

and the owner of the fabric,

Everyday I go home with this thought-

as dirty as my whole-

a whacked swollen whore.

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2 endeavored to criticize:

gkae said...

i'm not a good critic best... hmmm. try2x lng... best try daw ichange ang line na, "when things are done" to something more interesting... i like the poem though. haha. even whores have feelings. haha

Damsel said...

I have the edited version narin of this poem, il post it one of these days. :) hehehe. di ko kasi nasave sa usb eh. senxa. luod ang poem uie. duh