The memories of your touch possess me,
They drive screws through the obsessed me.
I can’t sleep as my addiction takes form,
Cursing every men I’ve met since I was born.
My body is a statement, not a choice.
They claim I like it as they tear apart my voice,
And all the lies start piling up on my chest
Until I agree, and they say I have confessed.
-JW
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 