She Leaves Poem by manda dutson

Your skin is old, stretched, sagging
Besides, I've touched it before
Like a bad habit that doesn't quite fit
But you insist that it indeed fits
That is why I try on new ones.

So I return, my well worn tears
An offering, a kind word for silence
Yet lust leaks from my draining wounds
New skin, taut, perfection
Needing me to need touching.
At least if it's twisted, a dream
Nightmare to some, returning
My nightmare fantasy.

So run with your ginger and spice
Ohhh...so everything's nice
A game, some play so poorly
Then I can chase the chaste
Who wants leftovers anyway

Squeezing the EZ cheese tastes good
But requires too much work
Cost's money, time and pain
Until I return to bed
Pretend I'm home
Pleading innocent, palms up
To touch the skin I've touched, before
She leaves me