Motel 8


The bones of my frail and aching body crack--
like the ice cubes coming out of the tray--
the tray I always forgot to fill
and you always liked to remind me.

Your heavy breathing on my neck
as you grind your teeth and grin.
With those yellow decaying parts
that broke me down.
Fighting back only made the struggle more real.

As your callused fingertips
traveled down my untouched stomach,
my bloodshot eyes drifted to the
broken motel window.

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