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