You make me
Want to misbehave
In ways I’d never
Admit
To you.
I see your neck
Exposed about your collar
And I want to wrap
My hands around it
But not to
Strangle
You.
When your
Throat
Puffs and rotates
Around your words,
I want to eat
Your
Adam’s apple.
The thoughts
That run through
My brain when
We’re discussing
How I need to be more
Patient
Make me me ache and drip and
Press my lips together hard
So I don’t say out loud,
“I want it now.
Come
Here
Now.”
You
Extend
Every second with me
Because I know
You want me, too.
But you
Are trying to better yourself,
And so I suffer.
It hurts.
It hurts
In a way
That can be salved.
It can be saved.
It can’t be bandaged.
It can’t be covered up.
You
Are
My
Red wine,
The kind that
Let’s me let go
And makes my shoulders drop
But doesn’t
Leave me with a headache
The next morning.
You’re pure and bright and your tannins
Prove just what tastebuds are searching for.
I flush as I consume you.
I hive as you look
At me and only
Give me
Part
Of
What I want.
You
Are torture incarnate.
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