Snapping Your Strawbones

The incessant clobbering against mirror-lined ribs,
glazes over the sound of her sighs;
he becomes wedged between her glassy collar bone,
fingers tearing into dissipative skin.

Her collarbone is an exhibit to him,
his fingers tracing patterns over it;
he is tearing out her soul.
Then the pain begins.
She is baffled by why she enjoys this.

Grating murmurs strangle her ears
as he discreetly takes each column of her coiled spine.
Serpentine words dangle from his jackal lips:
"I'm only snapping your strawbones, my dearest."

"Those lips could tell a thousand lies,"
She whispers under his ruffled hair.
"You truly wouldn't treat anyone else like this."
She never wants this to end.

Eyes of origami canter across splintered lips
while their foul mouths create a train wreck of saliva.
His artificial admiration weights each syllable,
as she begs, "Just once more."