I am a carousel horse
an emerald in each eye.
Two deep breaths and I open the door,
one drink, his hand on my thigh.
...
Only when the night is cold,
and the winds are howling down the empty streets.
Only when the moon has faded,
and the sun has deserted the sky.
...
A cold dark village,
of no well known faces.
A moon-lit street,
and deep puddles of black.
...
My name is Mike, I am 21 years old. I make a lot of mistakes.. Genuinely. I mess things up that I can't fix, and my way of dealing with this is through poetry.. I've always written down my feelings, sometimes I try to make them rhyme.. not always possible when you're angry! I can never find anything to rhyme with 'F****** C*** MOTHER F*****....' you know how it is.. Anyway! I wrote most of the stuff on here when I was young, and reflecting back on it it is AWFUL.. but it's all important to me!)
A Carousel Horse
I am a carousel horse
an emerald in each eye.
Two deep breaths and I open the door,
one drink, his hand on my thigh.
I am pushed down to the sheets;
the man's tongue laced with cognac and lust
burns my skin.
I smile as he tells me he loves me,
and the carousel begins.
Sweat drips down his chest,
I cringe and kiss his neck
as we dance.
passion builds and the ride is complete.
He dismounts, kisses my cheek,
and hands me my fare.