Slimed fingers that fumble for a grip,
Marred and scratched,
They yank and twist -
A damp snap.
Plucking those milky pearls
From their fleshy beds.
Red lips that curl and twitch,
A fuzzy tongue that dances behind yellowed teeth -
A muffled pop.
Those tasty little bits
So succulent and ripe to the tongue.
YOU ARE READING
Lux
PoetryIt's okay to hate yourself, everyone else hates you too. All poems that contain mentions of child sexual abuse are asterisked. I do not want to delete any entries, so there are more mediocre poems in the beginning. Entries progressively get better (...
