/ mp

such a vile, dreadful thing turns and writhes

a tongue that wants for blood, jaws that ache to tear into fascia

you can't come around and unravel me, too. such a thing wasn't the deal .

if i can manage my hope and expectations, i do so immediately. when i'm devastatingly disappointed, i dissociate to be smaller. manageable. cute. polite. easy !

so when you ask me such things... it's like asking for all of me. of course i become so flustered–

even something as simple as holding you there, holding you still ...

or leaning in to press my face into your neck
to simply ...
be there

but likening myself to a bat might have interesting results,

would you balk at what love writhes inside of me ?

no, my love does not hurt when you have it. it hurts in its absence,

and any moment i'm away, i wonder how heavy the ache sets in,

when they realize desire is so double-edged .

if that's what you'd like, simply cut away .