Krasotka

Plucking out stray feathers from a faintly stained pillow, Masturbating under blankets at half past three. The only sounds being muffled moans under heavy rain Beating against the window and later, The metallic screeching of the train tracks as Sparks fly, lightning brightening the room momentarily. A hand pressed against the window – cold feet and cold ears. He touches her back and she shivers. She always does as she is told. Deft hands unlace her clothes; unfold her, but only to admire her, Not to love her, nor to use her: Simply admire her, as she pulls the duvet up to her eyes Watching him curiously. Half amused. She sings alo