My fingertips along your skin
take away pain
and give pleasure.
Calloused and rough,,
my heart’s unlikely offender.
I trained these hands to heal,
lest they become killers,
but my heart,
my mind and my soul;
they would not stop
bleeding out the familiar.
Who do you think you are,
to try to soothe the savage?
I gird myself against you.
You do your best to damage.
I know every place he bruised you,
his fist was the sign on his presence.
I guess I should have learned my lesson;
as you smother me,
poison me,
stab at me.
This is what I get
for my humanity.
Curse at me.
Spit on me.
Lifted up your love,
but that was just your ruse
to enter me.
Sew abuse and linger,
while my fingers
cannot soothe;
now they disfigure
and my hands reflect the heart
of a killer.
Bleeding out the familiar.
This must be love,
for I have never known
guilt or remorse,
like this.
Heaven on your lips.
Lust,
mingles with blood.
Tasting our trust;
a bite and a kiss.
My fingers
trace the map
of mottled bruises
on your skin.
You are mine and I am yours.
Guilty as sin.
HG – 2016
