Face down

between my thighs,

you inhale my scent

like a carnivore

and your breath

is just a little cooler

than the fever

growing in me.

Oceans spilling into

all the spaces

that we gather,

we are both

pounding wet.

Eyes lifted

your tongue strikes me

like a match.

We were made to combust.


There is reverence

in your brand of torture.

An indefinite hunger,

your supple mouth

opening and closing

in composition.

You are speaking

without making a sound.

You are reciting

the alphabet in French

against my swollen clit.

I am breaking, 

staccato jerking beneath

your crushed velvet touch.

I am a satellite

consumed by gravity.

We were made to evolve.


Your hands

are spreading

me apart.

I am adrift.

Your beautiful,

indecent hands

are a tether

between this life

and the next.

Sucking, licking

delicately gnawing

my body is an altar

overflowing with sensuality.

My lips are petal soft

and wet with dew

and everything you taste

you are eager to swallow.

We were made to worship.


Speak to me

with the tip of your tongue.

Speak to me

in whispers and gradations.

Drink from me

as though I were

an oasis.

Possess me,

I am luxurious.

We are greed incarnate.


I am beating myself

slowly to death.

I am eroding the sheets

every time I surface.

Wounded by your ingenuity,

I am full of panic,

of imaginary wounds

that you kiss away sweetly.

I am screaming 

your name in vain

to a four-cornered god.

I can feel your breath

breaking against me,

face down and praying.

I am helpless against

your heart-shaped mouth.

Together we can be saved.