thinking about
the way she smells
i am compelled to go deeper,
remembering flesh
raised to my lips and the scent
something
dirty and beautiful,
how much would I,
how many hours would I,
what I would give if,
only the taste of her hair,
only the wet heat
that's not really mine but
I need it anyway,
the way nails are deep enough
to scar me, I'd love it
once more to wrap around
your throat and your words,
sick with the dark
veil crossing between your legs,
searching and seeking
for the warmth, both of us
stinking with what we want more;
each other, separate as the lamps
shattering on our sides as we
drop into our naked trance
and what might be honey to my lips,
now, we just deny
any vinegar traces on our skin, and
I just moralize my empty longing,
lonely for something
deeper than my own clutches,
pray for something
better than the best.
and how am I to finish anything,
with this bubble unable to burst,
wanting something
so much that I get it
all over my hands and face and fingers,
under the covers where secrets
multiply just like the panting
as the midnight moon looks on,
and we peek into each other's wrong,--
my own dreams leaking from between
the soft spots in my ribs,
red blood seeping from my heart
all over the bed, the pillowcases sweaty,
and no body left over after we.