If you let me, if I’d let myself
I’d mention you in every mouthful
Once, at 15, my father said; Stop talking about that girl, I think you’re obsessed!
I was, without yet acknowledging how deeply these things can go
Forget an arrow, your harnessing of me is a tattoo as inked as the one I already have
If you were a sadist you’d say; Good. Now crawl to me
I suspect I would.
Absence is a devour and every hour a little harder
It’s a tortured song locked inside my chest
Awaiting your key.
You, you, you, the bird who flies without feather
You, you, you, the permanent loan against my sanity.
In restless chamber of night, I wake feverish, imagining
Your cruel hands on me, the cull of my longing to lie
Beside you, above you, beneath you, inside you.
The funny thing is, you don’t try, you never have, it comes naturally
Like walking on hands or juggling, neither of which I ever mastered
As you master me with the flint in your eyes and the quiescence of your tongue
Sharp teeth catching against your damson lip, ragged once in a great while
I have become a collector of moments featuring you
The turn of your full cheek set against certain light, eloping into smile
I want to dose you with a spell that you’ll feel
A tenth, a quarter, a handful.
Even as you are a wild thing and I knew it then, as I know it now
A creature who enjoys the pin cushion of being desired
Each gentle intrusion bringing a little fresh blood
Painless for you
A hammer in my heart.
Underwing, in indigo darkness I envelop
My unspoken entreaty and braid it into my hair
With every twist, pulling tighter, for my darling, wishing is