we dance around the subject,
so misguidedly. you want me,
i want you, i want to
rest my thighs over your face
and watch as you lap my at my secrets like
a drowning man. i want you to take me
without abandon, hair pulling,
as you choke me without any hands.
prowling through the high grass,
you look at me like you want all of it;
the highs, the lows, the tears,
and the moans. we pretend
that though we rest our heads,
in separate beds, you could
not lean over and take a sip;
drunk on the nectar that seeps
from my lips, what you
would do next, would you go back
for more, or shake your head
and wonder if this was heaven-sent?


2 thoughts on “heaven-sent

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