Erotica & Melancholia

throe

I am your mouth, your hair, your repine—

a silent hunt disrupts the way 

light enters the eyes.

A poke and pry, in liquid steps,

I am starved misery without the smell of you on something wet. 

Your neck, a slab of meat I slice, a cannibal for just one bite, 

a savaged point hoards a hot heartbeat—

Starved for sunbeams, 

I am antelope, sacrificed meat, 

a nourishment 

a teat.