Stroking

October 8, 2011
By
More by this author
Our minds:
One,
the same
Bloody cuts on our scalps.
Matted waves
Thick and knotted.
Untangling each other,
strand by strand
Picking ourselves apart
Tearing at our luscious locks.
Mangled layers touch,
Pieces groping
You lick my wounds dry.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback