Lust II.

I kissed someone and it felt

Long and new.

I remembered how

It's not something you forget.

The last time I kissed someone, I was kissing

Him goodbye. He reached his

Body through my passenger car window

And gave me a look (here take this last

'Impassioned' glance take it

Because you can no longer have my legs between your legs

My arms mouth bony hips and)

Kissed me one final time

Because my pout begged him, and then I never saw him again.

That was so many alone nights ago

Hundreds

I am a very lustful girl.

I seethe and ache for my muse.

So fantastically attuned to being his own creature.

(I can tell.)

I lust for the one who I once

Dreamt held the arch of my foot and

Made me feel our hearts were anchored and safe.

I lust for him and there is a jealous liquor to it which

If I am not careful, makes me drunk.

And when it makes me drunk enough I gore him with my eyes

Our pupils meet excruciatingly steadfast

As if I fancy myself to be Titania even though

Inside I flop and groan as if I’ve caught The Sweat.

Perhaps I’ve caught The Sweat.

I lust faintly but consistently, damn

Long and incredibly slender

His hips as wide as my waist

I would like to touch my pout to those bones,

Gnaw them a little.

A feminine handsomeness

Hands in the pockets of his long pants,

Or quite often holding a cigarette for he smokes.

His pretty face makes me awkward and stupid

Fantasizing about resting my forehead

Against the dip in his chest bone

The dip in his chest bone and simply inhaling,

For hours inhaling.

Bare white feet in the grass.

What I lust for is his shoulders.

Not just any time. In the sun.

Bright sun light

They are covered in freckles.

He is very thin and his bones are small

and his shoulders are covered in freckles

Exposed to the sun, lay-about

Doesn't give a fuck about

And my hands are not sensitive enough.

They would have to be kissed by my pout.

Just one.

Shoulder that is.