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a poem by Aleathia Drehmer

Divine Mess

Face down on the bed
exhausted from his hands
clawing at my body,
cock pushed deep
repeatedly until
I've nothing left
but muscles and skin
pulsating in alternate
beats to the silent
spaces lingering
in my chest.

I'm diagonal and half twisted
across the sheets, knee pulled
triangular at my side
when I hear him open the door.
The click and release
a new addiction to my ears;
he is always coming for me.

My mind is half asleep
as he lifts the edge
of my skirt, folds it up
revealing my naked
ass and pussy. I feel him
lean back and look, shake
his head and admire
the divine mess
he's made.

© by Aleathia Drehmer
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #19 ~ January 2012