Motion Or Still Pulp Fiction?


You lay across the matress.

Head turned to my left.

Your smile spreads like the legs of a woman.

Cheerleading their way out into a full split.

My hands creep forward

Towards your shoulder.

You tell me that it feels wonderful,

And soon you close your eyes.

The relaxation of your breath

Puts both of us at ease.

Your breathing pattern nearly

Craddles me to slumber

But only a number of moments remain

For I am about to slain your lion's den.

My thumb pretends to be an assassin;

Preying on the point of the mountain.

My left hand slides on her jawline;

Slightly grabbing her chin.

CRACK! Her neck crumbles

And her eyes backflips to the back of her head.

Her fingers become relaxed.

Her muscles were retired from their work.

Her collasps.

Moving from her body,

Her smile still intact like botox.

She opens her eyes and says

"Now, that was the spot."

Am I dreaming?

Is this being high off of my motion

Or stuck in pulp fiction?


-Lauren Pointer



WOW! This is all I can say. I love your sensual use of words.

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741