Thick salt licked to the edges
And maybe,
it wont be bad if
Every edging flicker was
Just seconds from.
Just one more stain

Maybe,

I might be choking on the humidity of
Headlights through the curtain.

I need you to be rough,
Brutal and harsh in notes much lower than those familiar voices.
Crumple me into rugged peaks.
Beat my skin in a heavy rain, kissed with burning winds.

But be careful.

Twist on the sinews of fibres,
In dark places, with the lightest embrace,
To sink,

Slowly,

further down in precise and pretty patterns.


I need texture,

   but be careful.

I need you.