Saturday October 21, 2017
The Touch of Aphrodite
Maybe if the lump in her throat wasn’t made of spikes and sorrys.
Maybe if the hole she was trying to fill wasn’t so deep down there.
A couple days ago she asked for his forgiveness and he told her she didn’t need his. She figured he meant she needed her own but so far she wasn’t able to give herself that.
Maybe if her throat wasn’t the passageway for unforgivable thoughts.
Maybe if her mouth wasn’t trying to coat all of her words in stomach bile.
When she told him what she had done and that she was seeking punishment he told her she had already been put through the ringer enough. She was the one wielding the whip. She looked him in the eye and said, more, more, more.