I was not meant
to be fondled and stroked
by all manner of men
can’t pretend
that I can still feel
the impression of your last
suggestion on my flesh
such worthless
inexpressible passion
dragonesque presence
trapped inside small frame
memory enslaved
by trails, hands blazed
dazed and confused
about what it is I do
to myself
by longing and waiting
in this unwanted position
for a man with no desire
to please me
to fulfill me
barely even to thrill me
perhaps just to use me
and tap my infatuation
like an overflowing keg
I beg for the opportunity
to touch
and subsequently disrespect myself
with my craving
and pursuit of you
decrease your inclination
as to the woman I am
disheartening revelation
that my need to go half
on a heartbeat
a breath
an instance
with you
dispatches you
from my presence
Read this poem and more in my book “Life; Love and Lust: Him, Me, You”
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