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Woke again restless. My coffee cold and bitter as your parting thought. Your eyes raped my mind. Have you dismissed my existence? You discard me as everyday trash. Have you forgotten I tasted you? I still remember your taste on my tongue, lingering in the air as you begged me to plunge into you.  I’ve been deeper than his 6”. I remember your face as you rocked and slid into ecstasy. You’re first time to cum when on top. And, my hand pushing you down to clean your mess. You like playing the whore. Good for all of you getting more than bargained for.

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Published by: her mourning coffee

Walking a fine line between genius and insanity. My words are raw, sometimes visceral, and vulgar.  I write to settle my thoughts.  I have triggers that extract emotional immaturity, deep- rooted fears, anger, insecurity, vulnerability, yet I heal with every stroke of the pen.  I might be that monster.  I sometimes scare myself.  Please keep this in mind as you read.  I do not wish to provoke you, though stories need to be told. *not all posts are in real time

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