he’s not fucking me for my mind
fairytales like that don’t happen
you see,
he’s old enough to be my father
lived a life marred by oppressive emptiness
he's desperately seeking youth…
in me

so we sit in silence
hellish thought flip flopping in my mind
as he strips me of my clothes…
and dignity
leaves rough kisses along my jaw

he's not fucking me for my mind
I remember
his hollow touch prompting me
to reminisce.

once,
sheets became saturated with my blood
he on top,
didn’t notice
I felt my innocence die
the red regret flooding from me
“pain isn’t love,”
I remember thinking.

now,
my streaming tears are shaken off
like a nightmare
he's old enough to be my father
so as he sinks into me
all he finds is an
empty shell of a daughter