Her Warm Mr Poem by James McLain

In the shade
I feel her wait,
In the distance I feel her hatred.
On my neck I feel her breath,
In her eyes I see my death.
From the bottom of my before,
I feel her contracting.
Conjoining my body too for into.
My fear develops while her hands there wander,
I hate it that with her I am only some warm Mr.
In the darkness and in the cold,
she strips my body like if I was told.
My clothing falls to the bottom
off the ground,
the brush of her fingers through my very soul.
Through my skin her flesh I deeply feel,
of the near future I will never care.
My body is considered forsaken and frightened,
I want to resist but my fear is discovered.
She forces
me to push up and upwards too the end of my finger.
Against my neck I feel her lips.
I feel that it is so much deeply wrong,
my curiously her covetousness for me is strong.
Thrown to the floor I feel the moon come down
in that one final push,
She pulls it in,
and it is reduced and warm, she on top.
My legs she spreads with such force and covetousness,
In my body it starts to push, her way is down.
My thighs were strongly held in her handle,
In and out of my flesh it continues to slip inside.
The pain is pointed and difficult to discover,
I feel pure to want and nothing like such care.
I want to run far, far away If but inside to just escape.
How I will pay.
I feel her convexity deeply with her interior,
In me more quickly it starts to slip.
I hate it and l' like this pleasure and pain,
I am wrong, I am me, I feel so alienated!
I want it to stop
but never quits, my body starts to rise again,
the feeling is however and make me precipitate.
I develop red at the end reddened while I start to groan,
I hate the manner in which I feel
she should be made to pay the price but I.
I feel all alone so forsaken,
something keeps me there inside and all alone.
I feel to shaken and when will she forgo my forced access,
With her interior of me in all directions
its virility it start to burst.
she never once withdraws me from.
She beat me
to ensure that I remain so she would come again.
She said I look just like my father.
I was only thirteen when I ran away from home.