broken and used as a doormat

she was an
using me as
and emotional
twisting myself
into the always
shifting shape
of the space
in her chest

i was her
punching bag
she was
only ever happy
when my tongue
wagged obediently
between her
or the words
lapped between
her ribs
but oh how
i would
strive to find
a way to fit
in her every
momentary desire

a contortionist
unable to bend
in unnatural
unable to follow
vague indications
an extortionist
holding me
with her
every paltry whim
i sought
to fulfill
unwilling to admit
she set the bar
just higher
than i could
possibly hope
to reach

3 thoughts on “broken and used as a doormat

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