(inspired by Kim Addonizio)
As my thighs and my jaws and my fingers ache, I want to be touched again; in the midst of grey bleakness I want to be privately smiled at, for wine to warm me like that first sip of brandy after six days stranded on an icy hilltop. I want you to read to me. Save the florid declarations of cliched quotes for descriptions of us to others who ask - for me, give sinew to words and show me in deed. As I shudder into deep rage, dismantling my stop-mechanism to shriek the thickened screams of a thousand ugly goddesses, hold me when I'm done. I want you to make me believe I'm beautiful. And when you see me stripped and sex-drenched on the threadbare carpet, spitting X-Ray vision into your retinas, I want you to take my face in your hands and tell me you fucking love me. Anna Russell |
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