The skin of your shoulders,
the skin of my teeth,
tripping tips of fingers,
eyes retreat and re-meet.

We made a mess
of your hair, sweet Lioness,
you grappled and tore,
bit, I kept it to a dull roar.

You, you did coo,
as I saw nothing through,
coos for crooning,
surreal, surreal, surreal.

Excite the hunter,
excite the huntress,
as we take turns playing the prey.

Levitate the weight,
paw at my soul,
I lick your sores,
and beautify the remains.

We made a mess
of your hair, sweet Lioness,
returned and renewed
a sense of pulse, a sense of the thrill.

You claim me again and again,
claw into me, spilling my demons,
whispers smoke, chaotic melody.

An overgrown field of sheets
laid flat,
no question, no success or distraction,
panting, panting, panting.