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Je veux être la fille avec la plupart de gâteau. Regardez-moi dans la glace.
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11 February 2007


Non Li Amo

You call and ask if I’m free tonight, “…a long shot, I know.”

I’ve just been fucked like a bitch by my love as three others watched and came, their come swirling together, homogenizing in a pool at the small of my back.

I do not return your call.

I return to our bed where life is still and time is heavy haze, where cunt swallows cock. I breathe the air from his mouth, making it mine. When he dies I will pull his last breath deep inside me, imprisoning his soul within my ribcage.

He fits me. Loves me.

Quietly rocking, writhing, bending, pulling, stretching, gasping, squirming. Content. Senza voce.

I do not love you, because when we fuck, I am discontented. Impatient. Growling.

When we fuck, my hand does not move to your cheek, tracing its thumb across your brow. You do not shut your eyes and turn into it, kissing my palm.

Because you do not love me.

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Blogger Viviane said...

You know, I smile every time I read this post.

Blogger sinclair said...

damn, girl! beautiful, painful at times. i love it when you write like this.

Blogger Evil Minx said...

Beautiful. You write prose as though it is the only thing you should ever do.

(Besides fuck. And breathe. And parent. And... oh bollocks. You know what I mean.)

Blogger Tess said...

I have to echo all of the above comments. That was stunning, Mad.

By the way, is your RSS feed working? Your posts are not showing up in bloglines for me and I don't want to miss things like this.

Happy belated birthday.


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