Make Love to Me Aimee Campbell

Make love to me in the pouring rain. I know that all the girls ask you, that it's always the same, but I promise you I'll be different. My body is smoother, rounder than their patch worked pieces of sagging skin. And as they lay down their quilted sheets to bring you sweetly in, I'll be the one forcing your hips deeper and deeper in. To the mud, underneath that fence, the one with the barbed wire and the nails bent through my hands. I'll take you through all those musty layers of filth, pull you through those raging streams that wrap you up in raven hairs. I'll bring you to the thinnest layer of my crimson skin and allow you to watch the expectation bead upon my waxy brow. And I'll take you right beneath your mother's open window so that she can watch your naked back as you thrust greedily into the heaving earth.