Raw

~ Pleasant Street

Today was supposed to be beautiful
one of love and laughter and soft touches
but I have been beat up around the shoulders
and my sides, ribs sore
the last words from your mouth
cold and indifferent

what would you say to unbearably cool sheets
and soft duvets, dark hair thick and gleaming
draped over you, sticky with love, and us
oh us, we could be something, we should be
really something but we collide, we clash
and we are bruised

while you wash my back we could talk about our dreams
about how come everything suddenly
feels hard and uphill
rub my skin softly then rub me raw
far away from here

Published by Pleasant Street

Pleasant Street appears to be stuck in 1948, via a time-machine of her own design. Around these parts people call her Rose. She is a moody poet and a frustrated writer of stories. Movie lover. Cake eater. Bread baker. She is still trying to figure out a way to use baked goods as currency.

7 thoughts on “Raw”

Give me your two cents

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.