#writingviolence

Her eyes they did wander, She should have been absorbed By the richness of his Attention but she was Drunk enough to forget Her duty to her sex. Her arms they waved, gleeful Drowning in the bass line, Her lips they did move, half Open, not in invite. Her eyes they kept moving From face to face to face. After he’d looped himself About her waist and she Glanced a smile upwards, she Still looked on another Current to dive into. He moved closer and then She did too, till only Imagination was Between them. She against His chest, leaning, her face Turned far far away; drunk At the sea of bodies, Eyes lapping emotion. He swung her chin, with a Deliberate pressure, Pressed his tongue to her lips. He took a stolen kiss. How painted it does sound. Interruption in her Chosen manner, claim on Her person when he could Not claim her affection. Unwanted sea meets shore Of uncovered sand, rip Pretence of personhood. Kissing one ain’t being Kissed by all. Kissed before And will again. You knew It wouldn’t be you. So You didn’t ask to hear No.