Writing What Is Me

You Did That

Lasting memories are no longer on replay

They have been rewritten by the feel of his manhood inside of her

She was hypnotized;wallowing in self-pity and hate for the one that loved her unlike another

The self hatred consumed her but he saw through all of the issues

He came at her in a way that could never be explained

She awoke in his arms feeling as though the life she lived before never existed

Fucking her until she slipped into that cloud of pure ecstacy

Existence dependent upon his thrusting hips, sensual lips

His drink revives her every time

Doing it to her in ways she felt only in dreams

Suddenly he becomes an obscenity to her eyes

Killing her spirit;dying inside.

He is no different than the one before.

It is a replay of acts and facts that she is no longer the one of waking life.

He is a part of her dream; what she wishes she could have.

He doesn’t want her.

He leads her to a place of safe keeping.

Fucking her into a safety net of pleasure only to realize in her eyes that he is her killer.

He did that willingly.

She did that freely.

Doing it to each other to ease the pain of the death of love.


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