Read me a bedtime story
I know you do it well
It’s called practice.
Tell me I’m your baby
I’ll suck my thumb
I’ll call you daddy.
Take me over your lap
Use your hand.
I want you to fuck me.
I want to hear you tell your wife about me.
Where did you learn to be so sure?
You could sell salt back to the sea and it’d be happy.
Don’t tell me again
You’re away home
Kisses on three foreheads
While I betray my best friend’s trust
Dear heart, you are cold now.
Alone on the stairs and smoking
I think about your room and I picture your house
And I place my objects among your walls
And I tell you about my granny;
She’d be turning.
Your name rattles round my head on the regular
I mouth the syllables in slow motion
And I pout my lips
And imagine them around your cock
And I see those soon-to-be-threaded eyebrows bobbing above my cunt in a house that’s not mine
And I worry.
A victory dance above the slow fade out,
My blue valentine.
Douse yourself in aftershave,
Mask the sex we just had
And then tell me about your wife again.
Tell me about feeling wanted
Tell me about how much you want me
Don’t want me, please.
I batten down the hatches
On my ruby red heart
As I wipe your come off my stomach
Watching it glisten and trickle
As I ache
As I tell myself to switch it off
As I tell myself to forget it all.
Return to the bedtime story baby
But skip to the bitter end.
Every day I delete you.