Marlboro Fingers
By Ruthio
Mon, 14 Jan 2013
- 976 reads
6 comments
It’s mid-way on my frame,
You fuck it every night,
And I ask you to say my name.
I don’t really want to hear it,
I don’t want to hear a fucking word,
I don’t want to feel a fucking thing,
And I don’t.
Until I remember that time you said that thing about me to that guy some place somewhere some how,
Now the last thing I need is for this moment to turn all crooked,
And remind me of the smell of his Marlboro fingers,
And how it fucking lingers.
Just keep going,
Keep going till you’re done and I’ll tell you I am too.
Sleep.
Sleep.
Sleep.
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Comments
I like this, Ruthio,
Permalink Submitted by The Walrus on
I like this, Ruthio, repetition is a powerful literary weapon.
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There's a fantastic rhythm
Permalink Submitted by maggyvaneijk on
There's a fantastic rhythm to your writing:
Just keep going,
Keep going till you’re done and I’ll tell you I am too.
I'm a fan.
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I rate most of my stuff at
Permalink Submitted by The Walrus on
I rate most of my stuff at certificate 18, Ruthio, but you have to remember that it will limit your reads, so if you think a piece is suitable for younger folk rate it accordingly.
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