When I see your raw
flesh, I prepare my mouth,
for a meal:
lick my lips,
allow my tongue to stroke
the sharp point of teeth
as if sharpening a knife.
I hunger for
you, the way
a predator would
for prey.
My desire, base, driven
by lust and luster,
by hunger pangs in
the belly of a heart.
But all I do is salivate,
stay skeletal, as
you save the best cuts
for the highest bidder.
And I continue the hunger
for you, the way a predator
would for prey - only now
I am a scavenger.
I cannot pounce.
Labels: Poetry
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