corruption. a poem by melissa.

05Feb09

the scar on your hand feels
good against my neck

when you grab it
for no reason at all.

you clutch like you kiss,
unthinking and blind,
fire and smoke, sweat and hell.
 
my tongue knows your neck,
my buds find your taste
in the lonely middle of the night,
awake and ready, wet and solitary,
warm and wide

prepared to crawl to you.
gravel in my knees a small price,
clawed hands no sacrifice.

shatter my too-conscious heart
with wild eyed fucking
and then, oh, then–there, now–

hair in your hand, eyes to the ceiling,
screams to crash through unseen gates

sweat and breath, heaven and promise.
we heal. and start again

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