tattoo it love, feel it hurt

Unfortunately, so Bukowski.

Relationship Miscarriage

Filthy stains on my soul

Like cum on my bed sheets from sex never had

Senseless fucking, but only in my mind

Playing with me, just like a man

Throbbing purple  

Violating my thoughts, my daily brain

Routines disturbed by poison

Stale love, passions gone rotten

Black and oozing of mold

Decaying in my heart

Penetrating my memories

Guilted pleasures,

Like a masturbating teenager

Sharp pains, stab

Paintings on my veins

Permanently broke,

Jaded, and shat on

Stinking of a woman scorned

Hardened, like a cock

Once touched by my wanted hand

Now bound with ropes of time

Knotted in my soul

And wrapped, twisted 

Like an unwanted fetus

In my unused uterus

Fuck you, 

For not fucking me.

Because with you, 

It never would’ve been,

“A fuck”