Disillusionment

My breath ragged
I craved sanctuary.

Weary and torn
his confessions did nothing
to clean my thighs...

divest me of my sin

  my sin...

mascara'd tears
lipstick smeared on the back of my hand
she always said
I couldn't have picked a more whorish red,

the color of apples
I shouldn't have offered him a bite.
I didn't think he would devour me,
gnawing at the core
'til no flesh remained...

he missed the tiny fact
he couldn't steal the love
I so freely gave

in spite of his brutality...

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