You Gave Your Best For My Beaten

You asked for my hand and received a broken heart with a smile. You weren’t afraid. You keep it with you and care for it like it was your own. Your touch heals and your words speak life into the beaten muscle. Refilled the ventricles with hope and care so they can pump the what I feel to be so pure and true. My body is renewed as you work your magic and have your way with me. Soothing the trembles and calming the nerves, I can breath easy when you’re near. The creation of a new atmosphere was long overdue for a grand opening; better late than never…I guess I was just waiting for the right management to direct the building process. Centering my thoughts on you helps to fade out the causes of your work. My burden was heavy and your heart was light. The trade wasn’t fare, but you didn’t care. You said it was alright, it’s not supposed to be…it’s never supposed to be…Over the course of what we have, I slowly accepted your offer and gave more of myself to you as you did more work to bring it out me. Your work is not in vane, my dear. Your reward is soon to come. I just need the courage to give it to you is all…

The Bottom Bitch

Scum and dust cannot feel as dirty as I for I am of the lowest of the low. At the bottom of the barrel, you can’t even try to scrape me off. You’ll pick and scratch, but you’ll have nothing to show for it but tired hands to match. I’m of the lowest of the low. The pot sticker, the blackened mess after the wife has made dinner. Added to the dish, but burnt to a crisp, I’m not even worth a chance to pass the break of your lips, I am useless. Unbearable to the touch. Thrown in the garbage because you don’t give a fuck, I’m not important to you as you are to me. So turned off, you can’t hear my final plea for the opportunity to be free if you don’t want to treat me with the respect and decency that I deserve, I am hurt! But because of the neglect you exert, you leave me battered and bruised, I can’t help but feel used. I’m your toy. A play thing, a decoy from your troubles filling your head from day to day. A release to take the pain away, but you give it away, away to me. This hurts. You push and pull and tussle like a bull, you twist and move my body around in several positions as if you were on a mission to find something lost, I’m your whore. Nothing more than a whore, whose main purpose is to report to the corner and deliver the goods. To pass out my service and give to you like I shouldn’t honor what God gave us, I’m broken. Pushed down too many times, grabbed by the hands and told lies to over and over again about who has the best intentions and where they were going with this. But it seems that they all only wanted one thing and that was to make me their bottom bitch. I’m just your bottom bitch, aren’t I? Someone to release your stress to. Someone to release your anger, but I’m looking to feed a hunger. A hunger for nurture. A hunger for an embrace. A hunger for a gentle touch, a need for a friendly face. Bottom bitches don’t deserve such things, we are all the same. Looking for a fix somehow but end up broken all the same. This cycle continues as father time permits use and I will take this abuse until my dying day. Until then, what have you? Take out your member and send it through, this threshold of pain and pleasure. So much, that only God can measure. If only we knew, what God could measure…If only we knew, this length goes on forever…