Puffed-up

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

Exploring,

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,

undulating

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.