My face is sticky with
your sexual release
You won’t kiss me —
It reeks of homosexuality
to taste yourself upon my lips.
You sleep
You snore
You ignore me.
My face is sticky with
your unleashed urges
Dark lashes on clean cheeks
The mouth that snores did not
satisfy my need.
Quietly, softly
I sneak from our bed
tiptoe to the living room;
lying naked on the couch I
relieve myself.
© Sabrina Santa Clara, 1989