vassago

One fine Day


I pray that when he is inside you,
his filth clouding your womb,
that a secret runs across your lips
A terrible little thought of my tears
and my loving brown eyes
and my promises.

Perhaps, bewteen his thrusts,
and his confused grunts,
you will catch a torturous little glimpse
of knotted hair passing softly over your stomach
as I kissed your perfect womb.

Perhaps you will then know
that it is for your love that I have failed.
You will know that my kiss was tiny,
though it was forever.