LATE NIGHT CONVERSATIONS BETWEEN MY LIPS AND YOUR SKIN

Kiss my lips
raw;
fuck me
into silence–
make me bite my lip
so I taste
mouthfuls of crushed blood
swimming inside me
for days.
Being close to you
is never about proximity–
it is about depth,
and that is the way
your mouth
collapses into mine. (And your hands.)
You love a smile
that’s an exit wound
and there were days when your kisses developed the habit of rusting on.
I can always tell by the look of a stain,
when it won’t come
out.

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