We were like mountains breaking apart.
Were pounding like fists on a slowing heart.
And touching me at a spot so wet,
You competed with years of blood I’d let.
We spun a tale of mutual rape,
Until either dawn or bones would break,
Then returned to warmth to lick our wounds,
But, once healed, longed to be hurt anew.
2009/2019 by Passenger B ©
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