Linger  stories
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emmanicoleIn hell we talk in our slam poetry voice
Autoplay OFF  •  a year ago
Nothing good ever happens past 2 am.


by emmanicole

The scent of his cologne burns my eyes as we dance. There's a lingering feeling of his hands on my neck.

I can here her the phantom words of 'no' and 'stop' as I stood there with his words burning my in my ear, down my neck and across my back.

His breath smells like the booze he's been feeding me all night, and according to his fake ID he is 25.

He's asking me questions that I don't want to answer.

'No' I say. 'Oh' he responds like I've disappointed him.

His hands are no longer on me but the feeling burns. I think about where his hands have been and who they have been in.

I take a shower, I scrub and I scrub but the feeling is still there; I cannot forget where his hands have been.

He slips his hands through the loop in my belt as we dance.

He tells me he'll take care of me when I get drunk and he won't pull that sleazy shit on me like he would normally do with other girls.

But in that moment all I could think about was how my eyes were burning.

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