yet_another_one andrea knowing what I do men can’t be trusted out to get what they want listening to the voice between their legs disregarding the voice, the cries coming from the mouth, the squirming, fighting body beneath their sweaty grasp taken for granted as it is permission & the grace of asking for it has lost its value as has the act of making love at least for me through nights of rolling over & trying to pretend I’m asleep & then attempting to make up for it to cover up the indecency with random men who crossed my path bad luck, like a black cat seems my constant companion at least in this aspect of my life this constant feeling I’m half empty or is it half full it is one the won’t go away I’m not sure if it is a gap I am obligated to fill or the empty space that is the result of what was stolen from me once, twice & again by people I cared for & so dearly trusted & confided in copyright 2000 000522 what's it to you? who go blather from