pressed against
the back of your throat
as if from a string
i'm lifted
up
and pushed
further in

our fling with romance
a flame
blown out by darker carving winds
leaving a charge that rakes
an aura past the tor

you gag and grab yourself
nails elongate
dig in
your hair rushes and becomes long
primal spots splotch

maw
of you
glyph of this
lit

choking
gasping for air
you ask me to
come in

so six and nine makes for two and one
until i paint your insides the color of skies slid