You had the audacity to claim

Your love language dripped off my tongue
I didn’t know that physical touch could taste so sweet

We’ve made love to a codependent fallacy of laying in the midnight hour

In each other's anointing oil,
convincing ourselves that this is love

Not that insertion is an addiction

And the only physical touch that you are fluent in is a pelvic ******
and the only language your tongue

Is fluent in

Is betrayal