logic is
the screen
through which
we hear music
with and
without reason
it just makes sense

only the holiest
of men
may enter my
church made of flesh
my backbone
erected like
a steeple
announcing itself
the way your fingertips do
between my thighs and
your touch up my spine
it feels like
the sound, the crinkle
of a fresh cellophane wrapper
leaving my mouth dry
yet wanting more
and the rest of me
forever wet, raw, and exposed

you told me
your strategy was
to divide and conquer
with a violent smirk

but i did not
let you defeat me
in this war

i watched you
lose control
with your furrowed brow
and your eyes
looking like hallways
leading to
my crawlspaces
you cannot
reach
my
foundation

you let my hair
sift through your fingers
like sand
creating electric shock
and white noise
but it had nothing
on us

when you watched me
i could hear
your heart
beating like
a ******* metronome
and your breaths
they sounded like matches
striking on brick

my blood does not
negotiate or
beg or
plead
it boils like
a raging
unwatched
***

your neck smelled
like the heavily loved
pages of my favorite,
oldest books
saturated in
my tears and
my sweat
so many times

and you loved it
because every inch
of me felt like
a lock
made just for you

and i loved it
because every inch
of you felt like
the key
that could finally
open me up