Poetry / Uncategorized / Writing

Day 30 of 35


Before he breaks the skin, he asks
if this is my first.
Much of my body exposed,
I wonder how he
doesn’t know the answer;
how he could suspect
that I have secreted another?

We choose a sentimental space
between spine and shoulder-blade,
above my heart and hidden
from the casual observer.

When he begins
I know that I am bleeding,
and I wonder how he fights it—
the urge
to bend over and lick my skin,
to stop the flow,
to quell the pain.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s