the lazy swell and curl of my cigarette smoke
highlights the blue of your eyes when you turn
them on me, watching the way I move, watching
the slow twitch of my hips, muscle memory of babies
sitting there, always the slight rhythm of side to
side, and i feel your hand slide from my knee to my
inner thigh, impossibly warm in this breath-stealing
cold, i smile, my skin is so cold it feels like cracking,

you have me pinned, stuck in place by your siren-song
my fingers twist around yours, you breathe in the scent
of vanilla, you breathe out my name. my cigarette falls
as your lips trace constellations on my shoulder, i cant
help but surrender to thick taste of you wanting me, the
pressure of your smile against my neck as you whisper
my name and i shift backwards, feeling the chipped paint
of the porch under my jagged fingernails, the slight jolt of
pain as it catches in my skin, the same pleasure as your
fingers flex and dig into my body, shaping me into your
personal play-thing, i am nothing but aching and desire,
waiting on you to bring the cure. your body insists on
worship, gladly given, desperate prayer whispered as
your hands fist in my hair, and you breathe my name out.