You taste like cherry frost,
bedroom sunlight raptured,
captured by subtle sepia crush,
a rush of blood to the lips
and tongue, lungs full of the
steam peeling off your flushed
and shuddering flesh;

We are threshed
together, separated and laid out
against sheet canvas cocoons,
writhed and tithed and tied
together because I cannot keep my lips
from scouring the valley between
your shoulders, cannot keep strips
of my skin from trying to interweave
with yours; lattice-like, enwebbed,
ebbed and seeping out of myself
and into you; shrike me on your
lancets, only kiss my pores again,
pour kisses on me again, take these poor kisses
and illuminate your lips again,
conjugate our mouths ten
times, twenty times, as many times
as it takes to swallow all the rhymes
I am seeping out of myself
and into you.

You kiss like
a thistle switch, like God’s sunlight
glitched and wavered,
flutter shrike, I am struck,
I am plucked and strummed
and humming for you;
I am sung and strung for you,
draw my tongue into you once more,
crack your kisses against my throat
like soap bubble lightning eggs,
til our legs shudder in time
to the twinkle of a hundred thousand
jealous white-hot stars.

This poem was originally published under the pen name Gabriel Gadfly.
Your support makes poetry like this possible. Become a Patron today and unlock exclusive Patron-only poetry and other perks!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *