sex (Remove filter)
In Bloom.
The past reverberates through me in the present
stains my clothes pungent.
At fifteen, a boy stole the solace of the dark from me
in his bed
with his hands.
Now when he touches me,
he must keep the lights on.
In sleep the past has me,
travels upwards, claws at my throat
and I cry out
for the dark to let me in.
At twenty, the boy who stole the solace of my...
Tuesday 28th June 2022 4:37 am
Recent Comments
David RL Moore on The indefinite sentence
1 hour ago
7eVen on Unshekel'd (I'll be happy)
7 hours ago
Auracle on Queering the Landscape
12 hours ago
Auracle on Unshekel'd (I'll be happy)
12 hours ago
Bethany Sallis on Haiku; illegal loggers.
17 hours ago
Tom on Uncalculated Coitus
17 hours ago
David RL Moore on The indefinite sentence
1 day ago
Manish Singh Rajput on Treacherous Tattoo
1 day ago
Manish Singh Rajput on Love Song
1 day ago
Manish Singh Rajput on Whispers of winter
1 day ago