Woman: A Displeased Sexuality

Distressed and anguished
Transparent, undetected
My blood runs.
Coursing through the
Wrinkles of your fingers
Like tiny rivers.

Blood. Tears.
My blood and your tears
Are my distresses and
You do not comprehend
The aches in your heart
From which they seep.
Yet I manifested in your veins.

At gaping wounds you tear
Hoping to free yourself
Of the essence that pains you.
But, I bleed on.

And you burn.
Your tears, my blood
Caress your cheek.
Leaving trails of evidence
That will expose you
When shackled by another

This heart is fleeing
The place from which it never belonged.
This heart is drowning
In its own and constant sorrow.


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