Your poems. your words.
They shiver me, my spine weakens.
Your details, your roughness.
My mouth waters. My hands contract.
Your sentences content no fuss.
You're writing truth. You're killing me.
My eyes conclude. My lips unlock.
How I'd love us to use eachother,
feed our ego's with the taste of skin
take advantage of these stirless bodies,
but your words are all I know.