04-18-2016, 04:57 AM
When I was eighteen I was claimed
by latex attached to grunt and sweat,
and not much else. It wasn't hard
to peel me away from I taught you your
ABCs, I know what you'll never be.
Each day, a centimetre more
would pour over my skin. The layers
grew thicker, less sensitive,
comfortingly confining.
On the day I couldn't breathe,
I was reborn. There was I,
flaws polished out, hard and cold
against the bed. One of us
left; but I have no way of telling
which of us it was.
by latex attached to grunt and sweat,
and not much else. It wasn't hard
to peel me away from I taught you your
ABCs, I know what you'll never be.
Each day, a centimetre more
would pour over my skin. The layers
grew thicker, less sensitive,
comfortingly confining.
On the day I couldn't breathe,
I was reborn. There was I,
flaws polished out, hard and cold
against the bed. One of us
left; but I have no way of telling
which of us it was.
It could be worse