Samuel Black Photography
She is raw from sex with Strangers.
Not physically or literally
But emotionally and intellectually.
Raw from exhaustion,
Of the men who fumble through the folds of her body
Red and purple and blue
The love bite stains of you,
That have no love in them just selfish satisfaction
And first time base attraction.
She wears a scarf to cover the shame,
Tries to find somewhere to place the blame.
Me. Me. And always me."
She is fake and fucked and filthy
Filling the room with sexy sighs that are empty.
Yes, yes, yes! Climactic and controlled.
No, no, no! Entangled and exposed.
Unable to break free from limbs that cling,
And sweat that sticks and smells
And tastes like something she does not know and does not want.
Wants to feel needed.
Needs to feel wanted.
Giver to her, take from her
Bend her to your will,
And She will always spill and pour herself out and into you.
Please kiss Her on the forehead when you're through.
But do not hold Her hand. Stranger.
Dive in deep but do not see Her,
You can not hear the voice
That tells you She's not moist
For intimate invasion.
She has a strong right hand
And can use Her left if needs be,
She can make you forget yourself in thirty three...
Times suspends. Breathless silence.
You are not in the room, Stranger,
And She is surrounded by objects She does not know,
But She will do her best not to show the self doubt and willing guilt
That She has spilt all over the bed sheets.
She sneaks out of doorways and into cabs with drivers that are cattle in a market of survival men and women who are having sex with strangers.
Who are staring into phone screens swiping left and right,
She has forgotten how to write with a pen and how to spell,
She can't remember the last time She fell
Into an innocent kiss.
As though you are scared of being loved.
Cards held closely to our chests.
There is no drum beneath her breast, the blood in her veins is not blue, the air in her lungs is not new,
And She knows the name of every Stranger.
Tom and Dick and Harry.
She has flirted with deliberate danger.
She is Dark.
She is Light.
She has a laugh inside her that is infectious
That wants to catch people in its palm
She wants so very hard to remain calm
She has no fury to be judged by the jury She keeps inside her.
She is Peace.
And Her heart is the moon that glows through the blackness of the night.
"Swim with me Stranger?"
"Let's run and skip and dance
And lose ourselves in a trance
Of words that engulf us.
Let's forget that we have teeth and that we bite
Ourselves and eachother.
Instead let's have breath that we breathe
Out and into each other
Filling each other up like hot air balloons
Envelop me with your secret wishes
Of near hits, and near misses,
Whisper and shout into the crevices of my mind
Look at me.
See and seek
and you will find
I am raw from sex with Strangers."
"A Poem For The Lover" By Imogen Hudson-Clayton was inspired by one of the characters 'The Lover' in her one woman show, 'Lava Lamps'. Lava Lamps is a solo performance piece that has been performed at festivals and theatre venues exploring the varying and sometimes suffocating roles that we as women dance between, and the effect it can have on the emotional well being. Imogen is a writer, performer and director, and is currently touring Europe, continuing to put pen to page.