he me called beautiful or so I think.
what could truly be beautiful about me?
the scars on my legs,
face or chin?
My uneven hips,
my bow legs?
or maybe it was in the heat of the moment,
I gave him my lips and
he tasted the sweet nectar we call saliva
And made it his home.
his rent was due to stay in my arms
So he uttered those array of words.
he smiled, I smiled
heat of the moment I must remind myself.
nothing he said is true,
or maybe it is.
true in the moment,
and then it all subsides.
I hide non-existent feelings inside.
for he doesn't know what he has done,
what he has started
or what I’ll become.
go with the wind we said
and with the wind we flew.