His flesh is made of tulips and glitter,
He takes like spice.
I run my fingers through his honeycomb strains,
And I admire my beautiful boy.

His tongue preys into my words,
Taking me as his own.
Skin hot, and blood boiling.
I am his tonight.

But then my eyes dry,
My tongue finding itself again.
But he is nowhere to be found.
How could such a lovely building have no furniture?

I want to delve inside him,
Sink into his chest,
Become him for a day.
My greatest fear is that there’s no one to become.

My beautiful boy is that and nothing more.
Is it enough?
Will his hot skin keep me warm through the winter?

All I know is his morning eyes
And mountain teeth give me something I’ve never felt before
And maybe that’s all I need;
For now