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Maculation submitted 2009.07.13 03:55 PM by Thornicus viewed 2463 times

In silence, sitting, waiting, I shiver,
I know that you will come to meet me soon.

Footsteps lightly sound, treading the bleached carpet,
And moments later you wait outside my room.

...waiting for the right moment.

A subtle knock and you're there, to stay.
I shouldn't answer but I do so anyway.
Helpless to say no, I open the door,

And there you stand. With that look I've seen before.

You reach your hand to stifle my scream,
Forcing me back into the dimly lit apartment.
Reaching to wrench away from your grip,
I look into your eyes, and they soften with a glint.

"I never meant to hurt you," slips a whisper from between your lips.
Maybe it'll be different this time, yes, maybe.
Not like the last, whence, forced down by fingertips,
I fought to resist the pleasures of your clay.

Stretching a leg and closing the door with a foot,
Then turning to lock the bolt, I take a step back in

"Please, for me," you utter, turning back to face me,
"I can't bear to be apart from you, l'amour."
Seduction, a kiss so sweet, and we retreat,
To the bedroom of the loss from weeks before.

Or was it a loss? Perhaps something more complex.

Love, loss, or merely sinful copulation, I've been through it all with you, my ex.

Wrenching my arm behind my back, as you press me to the chaise,
I know what comes next, and remove my clothes in haste.

Urging...thrusting...strainin g...fighting...


...and, finally, an explosion of viscous heat envelops our bodies.

Somehow you always get what you desire, even when I refuse.
And yet, I can't complain, because you're the one I choose.

Maculated, laying on the bed, I lose myself in thought.
As you dress and depart, my mind races to catch up with my flesh.
Forty minutes later, dressed and huddled in the corner,
The door swings open again.

But this time it's my savior.

"Are you okay?" he says, stooping down to stroke my hair,
I look into his eyes and he knows instantly who was here.
"Oh, God," he whispers. "Oh, God...I'm so sorry."
"I told you he would come," I whisper in self-pity, and fear.

"I told you, but you left anyway."

Drawing me close to him, my sole friend asks,
"But why didn't you try to stop him? You knew...and yet..."
He trails off, bewildered, hugging me.

"Because it felt good?" I shrug my shoulders, still upset.

"Oh, Ally..." he replies, feeling sorry for my state.
As I reach inside my pocket for the razor, to take away the pain,
He swats it out of my hand and reprimands me,
"No! You can't do that."

"Then stay all night and keep me sane."

"Please...hold me..." I cry, desperate for love.
"My loss is his gain, but we're like hand in glove."

So he stays, holding me in silence, sitting, waiting.
Perhaps you will come again to meet me soon.
And then, to your attacks, I'll be immune.

rating: 5

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