Challenge
Write about your worst one-nighter.
The most organically shared entry's author wins $100.
Etched
I've kept a lot of my pride
behind the mirror
Who said it was trick
or a tactic to hide my fear?
Poison is sweet when drunk
at first taste, but giving too much
is a sorry, sad waste
It's like finding a home for
your tongue to roam
and letting your hands play the game
a scene that always feels the same
He cuts right through me
a knife-blade reflection that follows you after
you sit and listen to his drunken laughter
and watch the shouts rebound off the molding rafters
It seems to be a moment where time stops for awhile
and shattered bones are masked by a foreign clothes pile
The mattress is too soft for your liking
it caresses you in every way you hate
and it carries your shape
in the morning light
when the bright-winged bird
jumps out to take flight
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