You hate me, you fear me,
But you're addicted to me.
You hate the control I have over you, and you writhe away from my touch,
But I'm everywhere.
Your body moans for me in the privacies of your mind,
Who am I not to oblige?
A sip of desire's wine, a sweeping, fatal force of attraction,
And all is lost.
For you.
My strokes goad you over the edge as they have done millions of times before,
And you soar over the threshold.
Your body lies sated even as
You hate yourself for the release you feel, and
You hate the fact that it comes from me.
But no matter.
I win.
Again.
YOU ARE READING
The Scraps of A Song: An Anthology.
PoetryPoetry spanning topics from love to pain, to addiction, to borderline insanity, to romanticism..in a disorder so strange it becomes an order all its own... The Pieces of Her, The Scraps of A Song.
