Carnal

The flesh wants what it wants,

whenever it wants it.

Be it love or be it lust,

be it gun powder or dust,

it doesn’t care...

My friend down below

has a mind of her own,

she’s the one who runs the show.

She likes them rugged,

covered in ashes

of hearts they crushed and burned

before I appeared on the horizon.

Sweet talkers with excuses,

crazy exes, emotional baggage,

and childhood trauma.

Ones who wear their wounds

on their sleeves and thrive on drama.

Lick it or leave it.

Scarred, broken,

emotionally unavailable.

Full of lies, little white lies,

she eats them up like cake!

Real love? Give me a break.

I want pain, neglect, criticism,

and most of all, his rage!

I want to feel it all at once

deep inside,

sharp like a sword...

brushing against

the walls of my womb,

spurring fantasies of a

perfect child unborn,

his spitting image.

Savouring the forbidden fruit.

Let Eve have her apple.

An eruption

followed by sweet nothings

and empty glances.

He makes a move, she prances.

Take it all off now,

no second chances.

The brute, the narcissist, the rebel.

The orphan who had to

fend for himself

and the absent father in one.

The thief, the liar,

the womaniser.

The one who’ll

make you feel like

you should’ve been wiser.

Burning desire for the touch

of a heathen keeps me awake at night,

holding my heart hostage,

for it knows that every time

should be the last time...

yet somehow,

I end up on his altar...

the sacrificial lamb,

a prisoner of my own womb.

Love...

give it to someone else,

I don’t deserve it.