His fingers searched for my lips
The source of the song
Or a cover for blind lust
In inebriety, all good sense gone
Without regrets, I became a pawn
He urged me to keep singing
With his tongue in my mouth
I pulled him down with a hunger
As genuine as it was uncouth
The meaningless endearments of a tout
He bit like a snake
His hands like spiders
Pulled my hair to move me
In any way he wanted
My neck scratched by his whiskers
I kept calling out his name
To assure myself I was there
That it was more personal
Than raw passion laid bare
But words are as empty as his stare
A few broken praises
Genuine in their indifference
So many lows after the high
And on me some traces
Cut and bruised secret places
With morning came light
Simple shame and passive fright
Shy looks camouflage a slight
Cliches uttered, old and trite
Quiet, to myself a pitiable sight
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