because writing
is the closest thing to
getting repeatedly stabbed with a knife
that i have
and i need to be bled out
i wanked myself raw last night
to filthy, filthy thoughts
that i wouldn't dare to even whisper
open, debauched, wet and so willing
more pain than pleasure to be true
and i never once thought of you
but it was your hands i missed
a fond touch to the back of the neck
i have always thought of sex
as a way to forget love
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