Getting Down Dirty

Getting Down Dirty

Almost as nauseating

from this too last,

his more than sour taste.

I don’t know

what I was thinking,

if at all, really.

He makes me wear mascara 

thick like a w***e,

straps a collar around my neck.

The one I made myself,

but not for him.

And it bothers me

that he doesn’t shower

before or after.

“that’s your problem!”

Getting down dirty.

I twist my neck like a vine

so I can see the picture

on the night stand;

a woman on a beach,

his wife no doubt.

I wonder how she tastes?

If I close my eyes

I can smell her hair,

her perfume,

her skin.

Her breath on my neck

on every part

of me.

Sending lightning

down my spine

and up again.

And I am changed.

Maybe I cant touch her,

but through him,

I feel I already have.