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Wash Me by Ellen Donbeck

February 19th, 2009  |  Published in Poetry

Breathless, I awake to strangers

Only wearing shoes and socks

 

Needing nothing more, I rise

Leaving Nothing behind

 

No mark of a passionate tryst

That may or may not have occurred

Only inside my head

So often described by others as sensitive

 

I’m thinking so much

My head might detonate

 

So I’ll retreat to a place

Where slumber moves

And goes nowhere

All at once

 

How beautifully distracting

 

In this place of soot and stain

Your sad eyes make me weak

 

My lack of qualms hold me

Blanketing me in a crowded street

Thick with empty

Wild with laughter

 

Where we can play pretend, you and me

Games like fortune, camaraderie, and love

 

I turn a corner

Catching breath

Your and my mask removed

We play house in this feral game called life

 

Years have passed that dirty sight

Turning into slideshows pictures

Still you’re on my skin

You stick

 

Thee who touches me will feel you

 

And I’ll teach them how it feels

To be you on me

For no water could remove your grime

You dirty fuck

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