Courtship as a Foundation to make you Jealous
The sound, like an anvil cracking the circumference
of a skull, the music of the young, seeped in our bones,
we speak in arguments, our voices raised, skin sheeted
in an unnatural glow of sweat and hair product.

We are out in the night, when the dangers ride wild
like meteors on the horizon. We move vertically.

We move away,

courtship is heavy on my mind. A stolen kiss is
a sugar rush, a set of bent fingers fumbling for mine
tingles deep inside.

I want to watch you watching me.

I want to watch you watching me, watching you.

I want there to be nothing but secretive truths to us.
I want us to be people we are not.

The sound is honorable, a jungle rhythm, bats
and laughing hyena's, lions in the living room,
and scorpions in the bed sheets. I want all of your
words to have my name attached to them. I want
every sound you make to resemble the shape of my
kneecaps, the flutter of my eyelashes.

I want to leave you alone to watch me with someone else.

I want to watch you in the corner of the room
watching me with someone else.

I want to watch your lips part, mouth not swollen enough
without my tongue inside it.

Instead we just dance. Just pretend we don't want to see,
to watch, tell ourselves the other is in pain when really they
are not.