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One More (Sawyer Love)

“One more.”
“No.”
“Take it.”
“No, I’ll throw up.”
“No you won’t.”
“I always do with this stuff.”



“No one is going to throw up.”
“Go ahead! We aren’t going to throw up. Live a little for once!” She said.
“I’ll leave you alone if you do.”
“Come onnn!” She coaxed.”
“It burns.”
Laughter. “You’ll be tasting cinnamon for a month.”

“One more.”
“It was one more, four times ago.”
“Stop fighting it.”  She said.
“Fine.” Set it down behind the arm of the couch, where two others glisten in the lamp light.”

“Going to regret this in few hours.” Stumbling in the darkness. Sprawled out on the bed, drifting into nothingness.

Mouths collided unexpectedly.
Confusion bubbled up through a clouded mind.
Skin on skin was there and then gone, leaving the cold sting of air on someone else’s sweat.
 Intense feelings rose like a wave.
Didn’t want this. Black.

Pain. “Ow!....Stop.” Fade.
“No.” “No.” “No please.” Fade. “No you can’t!” A virgin.
Crying his name. Both struggling. One for freedom. One for performance.
“It doesn’t have to be there.” It wasn’t working. Black.

Suffocating. Aching below wet eyes. Can’t breathe.
Pushing away, hands sinking into a fleshy wall. It gave way, just to come back.
Experiencing the struggle of Sisyphus.
The taste of guilt disgust  despair
flooded in and the wall was gone.
Breath. Exhausted. Darkness.


Light. Too bright.
The horror of the night flooded back.
The pain and disgust left in a bone racking jolt. Again. Again.
“Let me in.”
“No.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Go away!” Water in my hand, pulled against flesh. Lurched away. “Get out!”
“No.”
“Get away from me!”

Back to where sin laid—led by the devil.
He’s going to hate me. Darkness.
"

1 comment:

  1. I don't know how to classify this either -- except that it is a powerful, heart-breaking piece. If asked, I would say poetry is an art form driven by the overwhelming impulse for honesty. Thanks for sharing this.

    ReplyDelete