the sting your stubble left is still lingering on my lips,
like invisible mosquito bites that tickle more than itch,
as i wrap my arms around your neck, i ask:
just friends? and readjust myself in your lap.

so you pull me in closer, you nod to confirm:
the two of us, we’re nothing more than zookeepers.
throwing fresh meat in the den of the lioness,
controlling those animals lying deep inside of us.