Nana Lynn
In the corner,
Hastily discarded garments
Mock the elephant in the room that sits with them
The no that got choked away
By
quiet forced moans
And the quick betrayal of a body too deprived of affection to understand
That she doesn’t have to, if she doesn’t want to. But does she want to?
Surely,
The sweet nectar that pools at the centre of her being must know better than her disconcerted thoughts.
The ceiling above the bed is an odd blue.
With a crack in the center that runs to the bottom left corner
Much like her mind and body,
The crack is sharp and bold beneath fresh paint.
Her mind sings
The garments should have stayed on and so should have the no.
And yet
Out comes another moan.
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