Used

If I were to feel the sting of every mans lips which pierced my skin in vane,

I would scarcely be able to breathe.

Their tongues always wet with lust but dry of meaning.

If I were to feel the grip of every mans hands which dug into me in passion,

I would crash down like a wave.

Their fingers strong with muscles but weak with temptation.

If I were to go through the pain of every man who left their mark on my body,

I would drown in the scars they inflicted

Love bites, empty of love.

And if I were to remember kiss of every mans embrace which suffocated my skin in eagerness

I would remember how those kisses hurt more than a million knives.

And that I told my self over and over again.

There are those who are loved.

There are those who are beautiful.

There are those who are truly needed.

And then there are those who are just - used.