I’ll drop the words

And you can drop the notes,

Peel off the strings to leave a raw neck

That I can lick clean.

(I want your skeleton,

Stark and shapely and solid).

You can leave the shoes,

An inch of you,

At the door – they’re not needed here,

Where poised bare toes can touch

And waltz

In naked, untarnished affection.

(I want your skin,

Smooth and sanded and succinct).

I’ll abandon the flowery letters,

Tangled up in my ink-stained hands;

I’ll let you gobble them up

Without a wince,

Without a tear.

They’re worthless without you anyway.

(I want your eyeballs,

Effervescent and educated and eager).

And we’ll leave the frowns,

The jokes that try too hard,

The scent, the kohl, the faked smiles

To straggle in cold hallways of plastic

While we run barefoot

Through sun-speckled summer and beyond.

(I want your blood,

Bold and blooming and bright).

I want to trace constellations

In your bones

And hum the melody your heart whispers in my ear.

You strum my skin for love and peace,

And I will bleed it for you

In thick droplets.

(I want you to be…)

In your hands, I am the solution

Without all the sums.

I am naked, writhing, wailing, fully-clothed.

I love you with my carousel stomach

And my fizzing spinal fluid,

I love you with my spider’s web of nerves and

Icicle tastebuds.

I love you, uncovered.

In my hands, you don’t have be anything but

Skeletal.