I crave for women like you
The kind who vanish  
under the covers and into
tunnels where no end
meets light —
cementing your curves
along the way for me to
find in the dark,
in the space
of your eyes

I feed on a lust that
has no require,
no must;
but a want of lack of
motivation to get out
of these sheets,
and out of you

I have an itch for women like you
The kind that settle beneath
my naval, the arch in my back
And like a rash you spread,
you dwell in
all the possible places I
cannot get rid of you