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What remains of you…

June 7, 2013

I can still smell your scent on the bed sheet
the juices that spilt from every orifice
the lipstick stains from where I turned you on you back
and fucked you hard
almost breaking you in two

I can still see your lipstick on my fingers
where I held you tightly across your mouth
to muffle you
later I made you lick it off
but some of it remains and I kiss it and suck it

I can still smell you on my fingers
where they went deep
deep inside you

I can still taste you in my mouth
from when my tongue exposed you
and explored you
(and I will not taste coffee to make it go away)

the ropes that bound you are still on the floor
crumpled, tainted and no longer white as they once were
but flayed and torn and fringing where they
bound you tight to keep you at my mercy
(not that I needed them – but you look so beautiful bound)

I can still hear the sound of your voice
whispering, screaming, squealing
begging for more
or less
panting
exhaisted

outside the world is back to normal
the traffic murmurs and people go off to work
dogs bark
the odd horn yelps

but you are still here

what remains of you

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