how silly of me to read your skin
pressing, your pressing as subcutaneous.
deep is relative. i know. and my reason
dizzies drunk on nonsense
on fancy on romance. on nonsense.
&i knew better than my excited
utterance, braided in borrowed sheets
in childhood bedrooms and now
i wait. like spoiling food, waiting
for teeth to sink and my nectar
to spill over lips, to be lapped up
to be savored, to be loved.