I turn your chair to face me
Press you into the back
Collapse onto you
In a trusting embrace
Breathing deeply, your cotton shirt
Feels so soft against my cheek
Smelling of safe comfort
And stable familiarity
Sinking deeper
I bury my face in your shoulder
Pressing lips to neck
As if to consume you
Pressed against you
Dreams from the night
Quickly take on a clearer shape
Awakening low thirst
Hooking my fingertips
Into that cotton
I pull until you stand
I pull until you follow
I lead you to where
I put you down firmly
Still hooked, now pulling
Off your cotton
Sudden aggression
Reined in with effort
Biting urges pulled back into
Gentler pressing of teeth
Tiny mouth crafting
Love bites like a phantom’s:
Briefly felt, leaving no sign
They were ever there
Pressing and pulling
Tips and teeth know
Where they are
Where they’re going next
Teasing, pressing cream
Instincts drive strength
Until unspoken promises
Resolve with a crash
Empty space our compliment
Opening between us
Our two selves separated
Soft cotton returned
March 29 – 30, 2025
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