He stares

Not at the cuts and scars I have creatively designed

On my thin, sun-deprived arms

He stares

Not at these horrid breasts of mine;

The many bloody lines

He stares

At my blind nakedness

His eyes roaming then coming to rest on my private

No, no, public

His lustrous green-eyed zeal strapping me down

His silken eyelashes brushing my cheekbones

His lips hum a tune

                It's Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star

Against my inner thighs

                          My bleeding abdomen

                                       The curve of my neck

                                                               My ear

Sweet kisses pressed against my eyelids

Fire!

Burning

Intoxicating

Searing, smoldering

                       Twisting my torso to meet the passionate heat

                                     I blindly grope and realize

                                                  I am alone