He's fucking me.
And I can't tell whether my moans and whimpers are real.
Whether they're from pain or pleasure.
If I want this or not.
If I trust him.
YOU ARE READING
Of Citrus, Honey, and Melancholy ● Poetry ●
Poetry❝Part into me like an orange and make me spill over your fingertips.❞ ------------------------ An original collection of poetry and raw confessions about queer sexuality and pain. Please read at your own discrimination.
XII
He's fucking me.
And I can't tell whether my moans and whimpers are real.
Whether they're from pain or pleasure.
If I want this or not.
If I trust him.
