Kosin store boys bedspreads

TheNog original poetry. Owned by me and copyrighted through deviantart.com You can read this and all my work at www.oppositesocks.deviantart.com We lay curled up again on my sheets this is the third time this week. Am I just another girl in a long line of hook-ups, fuck-ups, and awkward wake-ups to pounding doors, dirty floors, empty Coors and a sinking feeling I've been used again. I suppose I can't complain, my hands aren't clean of dirt or sex or lies either. That drawer full of condoms and these dirty sheets are give-aways of a secret I'd like to keep but I know I can't pretend to have morality on my end of all these dealings, these feelings, these free-wheeling emotions that keep me coming back for more mornings alone, for more than one phone call that'll never come. I've left pieces of my skin and bones scattered across the bedspreads of boys I've never known. I've left the scent of my soul and heart smeared across chests I've only seen in the dark. I'm worried I'll run out of skin and bones, worried I'll run out of heart and soul to leave behind like a breadcrumb trail I know you won't follow. So I'll wash these sheets and try to keep myself from remembering the way you pulled my hair and caught the air escaping my mouth in the form of a scream and pushed it back in with fingers and tongue. I'll go back to sleeping solo until the next romeo with a hard on and a Heineken comes stumbling in with me, takes a little piece of me and flushes it away.