come clean

Stripped bare,

aware of stark whiteness,

except scars,

wrinkles and moles,

like the punctuation to my story.

I’m lured by the lap of

your perfumed words,

and your tepid embrace,

elusive, slippery

like wet ink on a page.

It swallows me whole,

this pitchy murk,

I’m stuck bathing in your lies.

Like coal dust to tiptoes,

you cling to me.

 

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