incisors and molars.

between the stretching blue
of crushed tiny slips of lined paper
flushed arms
flushed face
flushed lips
and plastic red hearts,
perfection was
emenating
green and earthy
in the dead of winter.
a redhot stovetop
i'd be all too willing to
place my hand on.
i'd do anything for you.
have my heart and soul
smushed together
wrapped in clingwrap
in a brown paper bag.

i've given up hanging on
to skinny arms and
braided hair.
i trade them in.
pick a time, angel,
and my pants are down.
pick a place, loveface,
and my hot breath is on your inner thighs.
at least my "conquest" is singular.
at least he's adorable and naive
at least he holds my hand.      (just as sexually high
                                  all the time as i am).



  so unfold me.
  unfold her.
  unfold us.
  feel;
  mens' eyes were made to look,
  so let them gaze:
  vulneribility
  moreso
  than ever.
  it's just nature, honey.
  it's just needed in ways
  that make your voice crack
  when your lips are against
  my shoulderblades:

i.e carnal
    animalistic
    voracious
    sweet
    childlike
    hot hot hot
    loveydovey
    thrusting
    longing
    maybe a little pornographic?
    playing over and over in your head.
    all that heavyheavy breathing
    the woodwinds in the orchestra of my mind.
    your heart is the bass drum.


  she gave you trust
  postmarked to you
  in a small white envelope.
  double rush delivery.


i've tried to spill this out
as dirty as possible so
                        press your beautiful face in
                                tongue kiss
                                tongue kiss.