Sunday, August 8, 2010

3 Poems by Emily Handover

i painted a picture of you
in my mind
while he buried himself
deeper inside me
you had on that sweatshirt
with the ripped sleeve
and your hair
combed back straight
i hate your hair like that
but the only way i can
get off is by
picturing it

he told me i had
the tightest slit he
ever felt
i told him i was a gypsy
a vagabond
around in search of
the biggest sea monster
one could find
my search wasn't over
i gave a final tug
before leaving only
the stench of
salt water
and a disheartening memory

slung back another
handle of rot gut
tripped over the
memories i thought
i forgot
and fucked another sailor
to prove i don't care
only thing i got
is an empty bottle and
an itchy cunt

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