Looking at me

You keep fucking
looking at me
as if I haven’t
just swallowed
your lust,
as if the puddles
of your pride
hadn’t slipped
from my lips
and dribbled
down my chin.
You keep fucking
looking at me
as if the taste
of you didn’t
just try to burn
a hole through
my sternum
and pool inside
my chest.

2 thoughts on “Looking at me

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