Marlboro Fingers

By Ruthio

Mon, 14 Jan 2013
  • 973 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.

Certificate 15
Poem
Unclassified

Comments

Submitted by MS on
Loving your poetry Ruthio, very punchy.

 

Submitted by The Walrus on
I like this, Ruthio, repetition is a powerful literary weapon.

Submitted by Ruthio on
Thanks a lot, guys. I understand my style isn't for everyone, so I really appreciate your appreciation!

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.

 

Submitted by Ruthio on
Thank you very much, Maggy. I'm ensuring to rate my stuff at certificate 18 every time just in case it's too much for anyone! But I'm glad you enjoyed.

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.