Wordle #444

Wordle 444

I trace your lips with my tongue
unraveling myself in your mouth
as if I were a molten skyline
or an orgy of juvenile lust
scribbled between
the fine blue margins
of a hormone soaked diary.

If it were up to me
you’d drag my body
speared and piecemeal
from room to room
and fill me to drowning.
Your green eyes loosening
the threads which hold
my sense of self intact.

If I were made of lace
I’d come apart on top of you
like butterfly wings
in a child’s hands.
I never thought a figment
could go so deep
but the bite marks
in my heart are proof of possession,
proof that you have altered my design.
If it is the chase you relish
then I have already lost
for love could never be a game to me.