i want to punch you in the face
with my lips, darken
the nape of your neck
black and purple and blue
it's indecent how you roll my name
like a toothpick caught between your smirk,
and my lips ghosting across your jawline
is my deepest fantasy,
the bane of my existence,
and your eyes, those
gemstones embedded in hot white
sand, a sparkling sweet
hawaiian ocean blue
and god, don't i want to drag my fingers
through that radiant golden hair
and drag you down to my level,
here in the seventh circle of hell.

we're both a little ****** up,
maybe me more than you,
but tell me that this doesn't feel
like an aching, forgotten truth;
tell me that this doesn't feel
like catastrophic madness,
like ordained sin to you?
the timbre of your voice
can only get deeper, can only quake
my ******* bones - down my bones,
i feel a holy shiver
i want to kneel at your altar,
pay homage to the gods, regardless
if you believe or not.

because surely, a being as
flawless and sublime
cannot exist naturally;
surely, your very essence was raised
from the divine?