I Touch Myself Thinking About You

I touch myself thinking of you

I touch myself thinking of you
My fingertips hold a sharp blade
Oh how it traces itself at the edge of my veins
You’ve dressed my trauma so pretty it’s fuckable
You opened gates you were not given permission too
My body count increased without my acknowledgment
How do you suppose I feel
Take it into the grave you’ve said
I sit here counting the stars in the darkness
A home so pretty
Walls painted with blood
You’ve dressed my trauma so pretty it’s fuckable
Tie your fingers around my neck
I always looked better with a neck less
You’d say
It’s funny, the pain you’ve caused
My body craving hell but I pray for heaven
Sucked in as your cock deepens it’s self within me
My holy home ruined
My temple burned and buried
Only darkness dances circles in the middle of my worship grounds because you’ve dressed my trauma so pretty is fuckable.