First depression

You leave me with a sharp sting;
First depression of your figure.
Imposed in bloodied linen sheets,
Too sinister to linger.

Taught me with pain and tort stick.
Shamed me immobile with the subtle way your hips
Moved in time with your eyes.
They bound me through a thread,
Limp yet feared to stretch,
Lest my eyes become your goal.

So I reclaim my broken soul;
Two whole pieces of a reckless cleave.
Weave back my tattered sheets,
Beneath; my beaten heart.
To start again the anger
And to leave behind the shame;
To seethe with all you wronged me.
Little sense in what I hear.

You leave me a nice first impression.
You greet me tongue first and twisted
Face on weak shoulders. Timeless.
Nameless. Blameless in innocence.