SOL: Perfume

He prefers me drained of hope
Bitter more and sweet less
Stinging taste buds and assaulting eyes
Pliable in his conquering hands
Indifferent to emotion and
Therefore impervious to shame
Morphing into a concubine doll
Bending to another player’s whims
He inhales deeply, asks what I’m wearing
Breaking into a wolfish grin when I reply, “Ambiguity.”

3AM Thoughts // AKA “You Taste Better After Heartbreak.”

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