A trail of lace strewn through the hall,

a torso bruised with lipstick kisses,

bare skin drowning in satin sheets,

like dusk slipping into the throat of night.

Your fingers draw circles, slow and patient,

along the wounds of my broken body.

Oh, how I long to heal beneath

the warmth of your gasping silhouette.

Your breath pools in the curve of my neck.

You’ve locked my heart in a cage

fashioned from lust and unspoken confessions.

You shimmer, not gold, but bright enough

to blind the part of me that flees.

Those arms that cradle me through the night…

How easily you can make me forget

that even the softest, most gentle hands

can still be trained to kill.

I’ve watched you caress the flames before you feed them.

You move like regret wearing silk,

your mouth an eclipse I dare to orbit,

your kiss a lie I long to hear.

You taste like forgiveness dressed in sin.

A black and white rainbow after a storm.

There is love in this, perhaps,

or a mannequin in its costume.

The secrets that drip down my thighs at night

are too sacred to admit before daylight.

You kiss like a promise,

then evaporate like smoke.

And still I lie here,

drunk on the ache of knowing better.

High on the ache of wishing.