he is my patience but
you are my passion -
a flame lit from within
and mouths melting
from touching skin.
electric jolts and
burning flesh.
i thought i knew
you best in the
light of the moon
when fat moths
rest in a cocoon.
car doors open and
fogged up windows
with ragged words
whispered in the quiet
of twilight for this is the
last time or so we claim.
warm mouth but cold
hands and long limbs.
am i your favourite sin?
it’s probably all part of
a plan we are too young
to understand so we get
it out of our system again
and then shake our heads
at our sick tug of war game.
pain and shame with desire
and stiff bones set afire -
shall we do it again…?