Terminally ill,
infected with lust
curiosity and nerves.
Spreading like a virus,
your words crawl deep
into my veins.
Tongue numb,
lungs struggle
in the midst of this plague.

Embedded in my marrow,
festering in my throat
enclosed by bones,
guarded by ribs

The ache won’t leave, and I’m starting to wonder,
if my chest cavity is better off empty.