thread

Thread

I swear, I swear baby,

In the morning light, with

Your moans bouncing off the tile

Your sharp nails in the nape of my neck

Your jasmine soap,

Your wet skin and the birthmark on your shoulder

You’re ruining me. 

When my knees touch the cold tile of the floor,

I welcome the sting of your shampoo in my eyes 

You’re all-consuming, omniscient, and kind of a bitch. 

I wish you were merciful, benevolent,

Easy to leave in the morning,

But of course you aren’t-

There’s such a mouth on you honey,

you need this, and you’ll fight tooth and nail for it.

I’m reverential, you know that,

And I want to be nothing but good to you,

But when we are in bed together 

It always feels vicious.

I’d go South for you 

Even just for the shape of you, 

Soft, without edges 

Barely existing outside of the fog of the mirror. 

I’d do anything for the curve of your waist, naturally, 

And you might just ask me to. 

I know the slickness, the viscosity, 

The U-bend of your form; 

And you know what I found there. 

You are brimming with yourself

As the water weaves itself around us.

God, I need soothing

Let me trace the points of your spine

Let me have a cigarette, a breather,

Take me out of the hot steam.

I have to collect myself before you unspool me totally.

You’d do it just for fun;

Just to wrap the thread of me where it belongs

around your little finger.