My little basket
Eyes on the ground
Ring twirled around a finger
Not uttering a sound
Until he grabbed my wrist
Seizing my arm, my shoulder
Through the flimsy summer dress
The heat of his body
Wild and thrilling breaths
Before the ring was on the ground
Thrown at his feet
By bruises black against soft skin.

Advertisements

Comments are closed.

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: