You don't really know

Tinted yellow eyes lay on my bare legs. 

A sleep, fed; drink to many drinks. 

Roughly wrinkled hands clenched beneath my hips. 

Breaths, deep as his arms were. 

Vocals, tangled like his body above mine. 

Legs, open enough to let the bed bugs bite. 

Tears, as is burning oil above plastic. 

Yell if you have the strength, he'll only wipe away your lips. 

-Retaj Maryol