Posted in Poetry, Prose, Relationships

She Held Me

Like a small insect
between her two fingers
“Should I drop him?”
dangling about
I was there to pleasure
her,
but when I failed to please
“Such a trifle, a plaything”
there was a time
when a plaything
was good enough for me
good enough for her,
She held me, close to her breast
as if to wait, the moment being right
the time we spent,
the lies, we told each other
Lover’s arms, thrashing about
wanting, lusting,
“I’ve grown tired of him”
she’d tell her friends, those
who still would listen and applaud
Her circle was small,
smaller yet, if she included me
She held me, but I let go
sighing in relief, as I fell

Falling for someone else…..

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Author:

My profile might reflect who I am, what I think and why I write what I do. My profile might just reveal the inner workings of a deranged mind, a helpless soul, and a self-destructive way of living. Don't worry. I'm OK. I've just lost sight of my little sister in the evening clouds....

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