Not guilty (poem of mine)

You sent me a text
About sex
And I was hoping I would get some
Declaration of love
About unrequited passion
A definition
To quell my constant aching
No
You were just acting
And I cant complain because
I wanted something
Rather than nothing.
I guess I am feeling something,
But whether it’s love
Or hate
I don’t know
It seemed to me that
We walked that line
between the two.
I lie and say to the ceiling
1 o clock – I’m not sorry.
2 o clock – I’m not sorry.
I’m not sorry.

Look away, Look above. (poem of mine)

Your hands are on me,
I try to show light in my eyes.
Open wide,
Open wide.
Blink.
I am alive,
I am alive.

Slowly crawling down my limbs,
Down my limbs,
I anticipate heat.
No warmth,
No warmth from me.

I am cold,
Cold
As a broken generator,
Cold
As a corpse.

Hands on me,
Hands on me.
Palpate flesh
In your fist.
I look to the ceiling
For escape.

I feel eyes.
Real eyes.
Palpate.
Mouth.
Hands
feel like rigor creeping over me.
Ceiling,
Blink.
Espionage,
England.
Love,
Hate.
Escape,
Blink.
Escape.