AA T
Your whiskey breath denies my own,
The smoke tears at my eyes.
Back and forth it makes me sick,
Here there are no lies.
The friction of our skin connecting,
Creates an awful heat.
Up and down and side to side,
Our eyes refuse to meet.
Drowning in this sticky -sweet,
Reaching for the air.
You hold me down you push me down,
You grip me by the hair.
Climax reached-quickly passed,
You slide off of my flesh.
Your sideways glance says it all-
My God she is a mess.
Your heavy breathing fills the room,
So loud I cannot think.
The smells of our bodies become one,
It creates an awful stink.
Half in half out of brown stained sheets,
We share a cigarette.
This final scene seems fitting,
To the sordid way we met.