Timing Is Everything by Cynthia Ruth Lewis

He wants to take me again tonight
but I am not in the mood;
I haven't been for a long time
but I allow his hands on me
in his clumsy attempt
to get me wet
his hands
like sandpaper on my flesh
and his cock like a red-hot poker
inside me,
pushing and thrusting
and trying to encourage the flames
and I feel nothing
but rubbing and scraping
and I want to blurt out
that I didn't love him anymore;
maybe I never did
and I am holding my breath
and biting my tongue
and fighting a scream
wishing he would finish
and get off me
so I could breathe
and find my voice
and tell him it's no good,
it's just no damned good
but he would probably misunderstand
my words and turn his back
while he nurses
a bruised ego

1 comment:

Old 333 said...

Love is awful in so many ways and different directions. Thanks for the poem, Cynthia.


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Black-Listed Magazine is an online literary magazine. We publish on a rolling basis: weekly, daily, sometimes hourly. Send submissions here: blacklistedmagazine@hotmail.com