We were never
traditional lovers-
but we were
very good at being
conventional fuckers-
The time was convenient
I suppose
and to this day I remember
In vivid afterimage
the rhythm I used to ride you-
and how you'd shudder
and spit a foul stream of semen
into my ripe body-
I remember
in greater detail
how I'd puke
the taste of your tongue
for hours after
you'd left the front door
swinging open-
As if
you were inviting
another pervert in
to take your place
-
these were your friends,
cold hearted pedophiles
who drooled
at the sight of my
young, plump tits-
firm and sweet
like that apple
poor ol'adam just had to eat.
And later
I was forced to say
' I love you'
in some warped way
By composing mad poems
on your bohemian skin-
it was the only language
I could cipher myself in.
And then later
I admitted
I had to leave you
and you, like a good lover-
remained drowning
in the ashes and smoke
from my virgin fire-
The very fire that
on so many nights
baptized you-
It was a holy suicide
if there is such a thing-
And then much later
the dear john (i hate paper cuts)
surfaced
and you submerged-
Then came the finality
you had your reality-
and I had mine
And now it's nonsense to say
' we were better off alone'
because we were heroes together-
in some fanatical
sex ed teacher to willing submissive
kind of way-
And now we're dressing down to
the raw honesty-
you used to refer to me as:
' a dangerous fatherfucker
Amberlee Carter
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/inser-ending-here-r-rated/
