By Edetu

Glazed, awkward, tensile, fumbling; 

Ensnared in your embrace as we move together. 

There should be soft furnishings: clean  

Pillows, warm feelings and intent. 

Pain numbs me to the details of your face. 

Lowered, sacral, barren, thrusting; 

It must be? Good or I wouldn’t keep going in; 

Trading palmer for infidel, saliva for knowledge, 

Reaching for the mirror down your throat 

So I can see who you’re kissing. 

Swallowed, nauseous, scarlet, shaking; 

Is this all worth asking for? 

And did these hammering, hallowed walls hear me ask? 

Has the blood on my lips, my clothes, proved me Vestal? 

Do your hands seek the fruit hidden underneath? 

If they find it, could they teach my tongue to say ‘no’?