Sometimes
In the steam and mirrored home of my mouth
I touch my curving flesh
And think of you
I want you to put your
Hands on me
From a thousand miles away
Over water as violent as
Wine-soaked teeth.
To put your mouth
On mine
And breath into my mouth
Dark whiskey-breath.
And curl your fingers
Into my hair
And tug
And tug
And let it hurt a little.
I don’t want to talk
Don’t care about the picket fences
And the dogs
And the neighbors.
I’ll only talk in moans and whispers
And fall asleep
Covered in sweat and come,
With black and fluttering eyelashes.
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