M.,

I keep seeing you.
On a dirty mattress.
Your clear skin, smoothly interrupting the fantasy.
Too pure to be here.
I want to hold you down.
Feel your squeal against the palm of my hand.
I want to hurt you.
Use you.
Make you come.
I want my fingers to be plainly remembered in angry,
purple shadows around your mouth.
I want to make my mark on you.
So I'll never forget.

                         B.D.