I don't want to be your next poem
I don't want to be your next fling
I don't want to be your Adam
I am not some Eden, lingering

I don't want to lead astray
To waste a moment's time
The longer stemmed the apple's bite
The sweeter tastes the wine

I don't want you to bite me
and indulge in autumn's bliss
I don't want to taste your tongue
temptations reminisce

I don't want you to tease me
Those lips with practiced ease
I don't want to tease you back
In prayer down on my knees

I don't want to worship you
to sing your sacred hymns
I don't want your sacrament
your blood, your flesh, your sin

I don't want your ecstasy
to pay your carnal tithe
don't want you lain next to me
in precious wayward time

i don't want to hear your sighs
your breath upon my neck
your fingers furled around my throat
catching stolen breaths

don't make me your next poem.
but let me be a verse

purple, bruised, overused, imperfect, witty, terse

I don't want to want you
for want is wanton thin
i don't need to need you
just let the serpent in.