Played.

I press hot fingernails into flesh,
my red venom contrails on your spine.
You strum my softness nimbly—
musically—
I guess that’s why they call it
fingering.

Advertisements

The Cost.

You offered me a ride home
so I didn’t have to take a cab.
I thought it was safe because

I knew you
and you dated
her.

You opened the car door like a gentleman—
(I thought)—
and slapped me firmly
on the ass.

I knew it wasn’t fair

but it was fare:
and that’s how I learned that nothing is free.