I dreamt of him last night
the wanderlust of his hands
exploring my skin with persuasive fingers
empty caresses
discarded desires
violating my essence
taking my strength
using my body
for his ungrateful gratification.
Leaving the emptiness
awoken inside–
a beast never to be killed
only sedated–
feeding on fresh grief
from aged wounds
Him.
July 26, 2007 by Gertrude