criminal justice, amateur

if i could punish you for anything
of all things you might have done
it would be now when i am aching
openly, blooming ever slow open
before you, when nerve cells stir
and yawn themselves awake
each inch of my skin a square mile of
languid gaping pores with soft thundering
hunger vibrating signals toward the sun
that is you: respond. approach. appease,

cool the flush making its nervous way up
through to my calloused fingertips–
i know they are not soft, or smooth
but it gives them better traction
and i need it, trying to hold on to you.

anything– i would punish you
with bruising kisses, with embraces
which crush hearts together to wine–
with the hoarse whisper of your name
paper-thin on my tongue, a wafer of wanting

i would punish you with all this i feel for you,
if i could


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