He only reads my words to look for himself in my stories.
His ego owns him and it desires to make out of me a mockery of the same slavery
He only grazes my pages for validation that his existence is still felt
Between my legs, laced with the irrationality of my emotions he provokes, crackling between the wild fires burning the pastures of my heart until I am ashes reduced to smoke
There is pain behind my fingertips, bleeding from the cut of unrequited love.
By Janell Hihi