Around me I see lust, lust for my flesh. Eyes ever darkening likened to charcoal, their sweet words turned sore-predators.
Staring, slightly overly they stretch their hands touching my skin. I wanna be lost, my flesh empty- my soul bare.
Itching I am, to be lost in their midst I desire. All they want is talk-talk and more talk. Call’ text’ fading – some days more blurred.
My soul bare-my flesh empty.