Ode to my Razor

It is extremely difficult to break you open.

Prying, peeling, pulling, plastic parts.

Where to do it.

You eagerly tear at my stockings.

Stowing away in my hip pocket,

Weaseling your way down into my underwear.

Where to wear you?

Where will you remain unseen?

You snake down and kiss me gently

One on the tip of the hip

A reminder of what you want-

A gift to stop my tears.

A promise,

One on the stomach.

Sexually charged,

You dominate, domesticate desecrate, degrade.

I am your humble slave.

More, more, MORE.

17 on the feet, 46 on the stomach,

32 on the calves

5 under the breasts.  

100. And they are all for me.

Relapse feels like serene love.

100, and a death sentence.

I bled to through the night and my sheets.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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