LynnBlackwell

Not Your Lover

I am your slave,

you coax me with hot demands and assault me with quick hands,

leaving marks and bruises that are just mere memories of the nights before.

Blemishes that dance on my skin, aching for your lips to be back on them.

 

I am your playground,

waiting eagerly for the next game that you will taunt me with.

The next adventure that will consume my whole body,

making me almost powerless beneath your rough touch.

 

I am your doll,

only being picked up and played with when it’s convenient for you

Something so delicate that you handle so harshly.

Easily manipulated by the flick of your tongue.

 

All these things that I am to you, but a lover is not one.

 

You don’t go out of your way to show me how much you love me.

No, instead you make me wait up for you every night just so you can pleasure your own earthly desires.

So you can murmur crude things in my ear as you thrust into my tight, wet sex.

Making me whimper and wiggle underneath you, begging you not stop.

My words almost a plea because the emptiness within me disappears when you fill me up.

 

I’ll forever be at an emotional war when it comes to you.

Because although I hate everything about you,

I crave your touch like a child craves candy.

 

Without you, I feel nothing.