FreeWrights Peer Review™

Its not your fault
I would be jealous of me too.

The way I write myself into legs
and run while you dawdle
on the point of sacrifice.

The touch of my skin as smooth
as a baby, while you continue
to menstruate in the bath.

That which is holy I crown
upon my head, you,
you wear your heart like shoulder pads.
And I am not amused.

The way you seek the stink
then flush your body
the way you smell of virgin meat
the way I want to carve my
name into your skin, is not
of love but of letters.
And that is truth.

Peculiar and interesting write. First five lines are great, the finish lively.