What rage there is,

In youthful lovers.

The lustful want of incitement,

Excitement.



Passionate energy.

Unreserved and incorrigible resentment

For the men in suits,

Settle down.

Don’t settle down.



The pressure of ***

And the stench of expectation.

Bated breath as I reveal your weak

Underbelly.

Don’t speak, don’t apologise

As I count the freckles across your

Inner thighs.

I need to know I don’t need you.



Let me love you,

Let me.