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Poem

"Oh my god that was good" he said, as he rolled off of me to the edge of the bed. Reaching for cigarettes carefully placed, on the bedside table and removing the taste, 
of the juices that easily flowed from me when his tongue sent me back to heaven again, 
and again with shudders that came to an end with convulsions so violent I had to pretend,
it was you instead of this pig of a man picked up in a bar and replacing the hand, I should have used as originally planned, in gratification of body and soul 
with dreams of you with me and filling that hole.
In more ways than one, 
and join with my cries as we both start to cum. 
But rough hands have left their mark on my butt as he slapped my arse and called me his slut. 
Pulling my hair and squeezing my tits, releasing himself in convulsive fits
of profanity as those same rough hands continue to paw
I pray for an end to this life as a whore.
Locked in this world of meaninglessness lies, becoming someone I have learned to dispise. 
Dressing to please some sick fantasy
I've lost the girl who used to be me.
With female to female desires suppressed, 
that bubble so deeply from inside my chest, 
For you. 
The lady serves me my coffee each day but all I can do is smile and say, 
thank you and hope that one day you will see that my deepest desire is to turn you - into we.

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