Whatever You Want

“Who are you?” he asks,

“What should I call you?” he continues

and I’m still not listening because I don’t care about what he has to say, and suddenly my red lips

are on his right earlobe as I whisper, an octave lower than usual, pronouncing each word slowly, my tongue dancing in my mouth: “You can call me whatever you want.”

My fingers, nails painted forest green and peeking from long black gloves, reach for the buttons of his shirt and I no longer give a fuck

about the rest of the world-

All I want is the weight of his body on mine, to give this whip a try,

so I can forget this day,

forget your death

and feel alive, even if for a little while.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s