Sweet thing, you’re so entirely addictive I’m up most nights contemplating
that if I ground your bones, I’d have cocaine.
This is me saying my bones are pianos where you are composed. That you are my 9th. That our bodies will sound together like stadium applause. Tonight my fingernails are headstones in moonlit cemeteries, hiding buried dirt and lovers skin.
Laying sideways with you,going on about how we’re replaceable but like hot light-bulbs that shatter in our wrists.How all of my organs are organs that play together in sweet melody with every dip and rise of your cervix as my fingers trace the line
where your shoulder blades meet like dueling fencers.
That was a mouthful —
but lady you have seen nothing yet.
I want to break my jaw, between your legs.