You came and left on a Friday evening on Valentine's Day. I remember the bottle of vodka we had before you admitted you were seeing someone else. I remember you laughing at yourself. And I remember my trembling hands and the shards of bottles I threw across the apartment. And I remember your hands crawling up on my shirt and squeezing my breasts. You pushed yourself in me begging me to hold you. And you f^cked me from behind, pulling my hair. It was the wildest sex I've had fueled by betrayal, hate, and disappointment, and pure lust. You came and left on a Friday evening on Valentine's Day. F^ck you!
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Trinkets
PoetryIf you want to read without the commitment, this is the perfect book for you. You can open it and read a few excerpts once in a while, or you can read it in one go. The entries here have various themes which may confuse readers as it confused the wr...
