The girl leaned against the balustrade.

Her legs dangling in the air and he

Was whispering to someone on the

Phone, later than midnight. His half of

The bed had been empty.

 

And he took his flesh into his hands, and the

Girl could hear the impatient rubbing of

Wet skin.

 

He gave the invisible woman on the phone

Orders, what she should say, what he

Wanted to hear, what she should do,

How she made him feel,

How hard he rubbed his cock for her

And that everyone was asleep,

And what was she doing.

His requests and questions didn’t stop.

 

And the girl who couldn’t sleep thought

About the bed that he had left.

The side that wasn’t empty.

How women are betrayed in their sleep.

And the sounds of his cock and her sleeplessness

Branded themselves into her brain and body.

With every rub he sabotaged the image of men in her head.

And of herself being awake as well whilst infidelities happen.

 

She didn’t cry. She neither stopped him nor did she move.

She listened and absorbed the way that he spoke to women.

How he would exchange one for the other, arrange gatherings

With many of them, calling them cheap and unworthy, or

Dirty enough to handle quickly, give them what they deserved.

 

And she heard how abruptly he hung up the phone once

He had cum on his hand

That felt like blood to her

As her mother was sleeping still.

fashion girl women model
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

 

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