I approach with gimme-hands
and the teeth you come with.

Apologies unmusterable;
vampiricly gleaning all your haves,
sharp eyes on the neighborhood burgalers
snooping round the afterdark
when you stop being mine.

Untangle your fingers from my nest–
you know I’m trouble
as I moan your body;
panting predator playing prey,
it is good I am not a man, I am

still soft and markable,
small bruises of your mouth

known only to me.

About jake.forrest

Poet. Songwriter. Etc. View all posts by jake.forrest

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