Rilke wrote: "for here there is no place that does not see you. You must change your life." How about this? Stars fall to their knees as I pass. I listen to midnight's crisp fidelity, necessarily changed.
What counts? I lick you in places that make you close up like a flower. I swell into a temple beside you. The decent into selfishness pulses like the quick motor of each breath.
There's no artful description of our mouths locked into our bodies. You take me into your lips and suck the moisture from me. I devour you inside my gauging.
My face fades. A disappearing photograph I take of myself.
What counts? I lick you in places that make you close up like a flower. I swell into a temple beside you. The decent into selfishness pulses like the quick motor of each breath.
There's no artful description of our mouths locked into our bodies. You take me into your lips and suck the moisture from me. I devour you inside my gauging.
My face fades. A disappearing photograph I take of myself.