.

The Recovery Room

My haven of health,

wrapped in a mattress

big enough for three,

with you stroking your lips

afraid to touch my skin with your fist.

I, half empty,

afraid of bursting at the seams

leaving you the mess to clear up.

We writhed in my blood,

sexually forgotten,

Me, the angel of mercy and you with your red suit on,

The one without the horns.