On a Line

When you turned to keep pace
grinning before my aching
so you were nothing but
teeth, I realized

it was you who made me a fish
on the hook, you were the bait
shiny and moving, that brought
metal thin blood to my tongue.

Your enamel tore thru skin,
and it was your neck I pressed,
your body I kicked while your teeth
clashed against mine.  I asked

for this, a closet masochist,
I told you to bring duct tape
on our first date and kissed you
back when you dug your fingers

into my flesh leaving bruises.  That night
I drew blood with nails, I punched
and shouted and tore at hair, but still
you held on.  And so I had to squeeze

your neck with all my might
until you were lifeless beneath me,
but that was only a moment, and I
was the one who was flayed,

see how I flop about and struggle
against this, see the delicate
paper bones against blood red
flesh in your hands.

1 Comment

Filed under lust and love, Musings, poetry, Uncategorized, writing

One response to “On a Line

  1. This is about sushi, right? Kidding.
    I like that, “delicate paper bones”.

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