Sick
Rapture
Poetry
Poetry
FRANCESCA PIAZZA
Finnley Silveria
Lathrop, California, USA
Tracy, California, USA
Wife and kids are the perfect image Using us as pawns in your life like a game of chess Having control over us is what you craved so you won’t stress We didn’t match your perfect picture, so to you, we were the mess New spouse new house We are the decorations to your playhouse Lying with ease for your appease Using fake hopes of happiness was the tease
there is a short list of things you want right now: rest, comfort, a hand pressed against the small of your back peace, rapture. but not the kind of rapture folks dream of no final redemption here no explosive joy just his body next to yours
Busy and tired, thinking your time was not required Lies about having ties our beliefs are now expired I was right to lurk while you were at work Little girl to an adult, but you’re the same as clockwork
it’s funny, you’ve decided that you seek rapture in the most sinful of kisses his lips against your stubble his smile against yours when even just the want to hold him close is one that you’ve considered wrong since long ago
Sick in the head is what I’ll tell you Best doctors in the world can’t even make you new Hide and seek with the truth but always revealed Naive to believe that your wrongdoings are concealed
it’s funny, you’ve decided because otherwise it’d be tragic
One time was all it took to destroy what you had Starting fresh, a second chance was given Manipulation and trained obedience you were driven It’s been three times now you cannot be forgiven
there is a short list of things you want right now, but it could really be boiled down to this: his hand pressed against the small of your back rapture given, given by a kiss.
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