Only the smallest little taste

doled out.

So sparingly, so cruelly

Craving and salivating for more.

Anything to ask for more of this

to convince I’m worth the time

to feed my appetite is mutually beneficial.



But no.

A tight-******, cold lover.

Nothing given with sweetness.

Only at his pleasure

Uncaring of my hunger and need.



I want the pleasure.

The small, sighing moans

and the drowsing warmth.