Ma vie en rose
she sang from half a sound,
the deep timbres of her voice cut off
by the illusion of radio
and so it soared,
Her voice, but not her voice.
Her but not her.
Live, but not live.
Revile, a reveille for the soul creation
like lost marks of intuition,
about the truth of the bitter life of this world
nein bitte nein bitte nein bitte nine times time
my lover would ask as he grunted above me and slithered his errection
over and over the fur a fire.
He wanted in but not the entrance given to most and all,
but that other hidden place which had not been hallowed by his entrance.
My back arched with spinal peturbations,
and then reached rhymed and rammed,
I entered into a new debauchaerie.
My body shuddered,
and there was acid pain that ripped and wrenched.I was unwenched,and made itno liquid whore,
at that moment, and forever more.
I wretched as my rose was stemmed.
He through me rushed upwards as if my body was not there.
The speed of his urgent thrusts surprised,
he had never been so before taking that which I to all the others gave.
My mouth had slavished and slaved,
by sex had been his cave,
a warm shallow that protected against the pelting of the outer days,
and swaddled his passion in tender darkness.
I did not understand this taking,
nor his adherence to this religion of pain,
though I knew that beyond the agony
there was an other boundary,
that I would reach for again.
Such was that taste of this life of rose,
a bleeding itch, a tender torsion,
an erosion of respect,
and then a flush flowering of pride,
that I had, some how traversed a place,
that other women had not.
For that moment I had him,
in a way that he would remember and lust for
on those days when I, cast aside for golden locks
and blue blinking eyes,
was only a dust touch memory
that rien je ne regrette reine,
reigns in ruins in his imagination alone.
I was there once,
I will be there again,
and each time with concentration
that I break threw.
I am there again.
[Yes it is about anal sex.... deal]