Young Writers Society

I'm here
I'm slipping on my dress
fingers scraping skin
this bedroom fall within
a deadly drop just to carress
my fears

You press
Your nervous and you sweat
lips kissing hair-drops
Unsteadily, you can't stop
Shaking fingers, dabbled, wet
You confess

We pair
Fabric womb, still sweet
Measured rocking salt-sea
Reluctant, you swing within me
I paddle away with weakened feet
I'm your mare

Whipped, these winds, searing -
Alone and thin clothed, fearing
Heart pounds, I swallow bile
You climax, all the while
Beating pleasure, liquid, vile
Raped - here are my raw leg marks
My virgin flower's burnt -
I clasp my hands about a fresher spark

Tumble dry, the streetlights fall behind me
I'm rushing nowhere, a knob of breath
Caught between the buttons on my breast