|
sucker-punch screw
by Ava Bluwhen i saw the message from you,
i wondered if you were with a new lover
or in some coffee shop on Second Street
waiting for your coffee with no sugar and too much cream
i wondered if you had it in you to be so bold
to tell me you miss me while your cock is sucked off by a prostitute
with too much gin on his skin
in an alley with boxes and needles lying around like candy and condoms
i know how much you live for the thrill
with your pants around the ankles
one hand on the back of his neck
pushing deeper
while the other quickly and incorrectly texts an apologetic “love you” to me
he will abandon you in that alley
leave you battered without a wallet
without any dignity left
he will give me the guilt of not being there to save you
knowing i was your one last hope
but you left me,
right?
so why does it feel like i was the one sucker-punched
with a lipstick stain on my cheek
you will seek someone else out
meet them in another alley
let them suck you off
while you propose a truce to me
but i am thousands of miles away
and my arms won’t carry you
i don’t have a dick
i was never your type
never the one you waited around for
you just ran away again
and yes i am fucking bitter
i am sick to my stomach
every time your name flashes across my rearview mirror
your memory is still the only light for miles
i can’t fucking drive away fast enough
and yes i am aware of the irony
you’re bending over now,
taking it in the ass
taking it for every good-bye
every hello
every little chance given
because i wasn’t willing
to get screwed. 12/30/2009 Posted on 12/31/2009
Copyright © 2026 Ava Blu
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Joe Cramer on 12/31/09 at 04:11 AM ... wow... exceptional..... |
| Posted by Elle O'Connor on 12/31/09 at 01:42 PM uh.............yeah. WOW. |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 12/31/09 at 03:00 PM Of all your poems that really let the hair down and the teeth out this might well have a place in the top-five all-time best for that mindset. There are numerous tones and styles that you've proven yourself to be brilliant at, but there's always something about these truly angry ones that tend to grip my attention even more than the others. There's no desperate effort to try and sound vicious. It reads and seems to roll off your pen as naturally as anything. It's far from the only piece of your voice and talent, but it is obvious that this poem comes from a very real and very grim place. I pray like hell that I'm never on the receiving end of a fury like this. That first stanza is some of your best imagery to date, especially the gin soaking into the skin. Sounds like wet brain on the horizon. |
| Posted by William Brunk on 12/31/09 at 08:14 PM raw and pssionate....well done. |
| Posted by Sarah Wolf on 01/02/10 at 05:16 AM Intense |
|
