The Familiar

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.


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

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