January 4, 2013 § Leave a comment

My wringing arms so tired
imagine twirls in your arms.
Bring forth my soaking drips.
Grip me and twist. Drink.
 
Roll me in a red blanket,
in a room, in the woods.
Toss my hips
and break in me.
 
A puddle
warm and sweet,
a bowl for your
tongue again.
 
Pushed into you so hard,
my nose began to bleed.
I taste my life against
the sweat of your skin.
 
Steel and salt eroding,
gnawing at the sound
of quaking strings,
gasping, “Please…
your tongue again.”

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