Poem #22: The Ache

You make me

Want to misbehave

In ways I’d never

Admit

To you.

I see your neck

Exposed about your collar

And I want to wrap

My hands around it

But not to

Strangle

You.

When your

Throat

Puffs and rotates

Around your words,

I want to eat

Your

Adam’s apple.

The thoughts

That run through

My brain when

We’re discussing

How I need to be more

Patient

Make me me ache and drip and

Press my lips together hard

So I don’t say out loud,

“I want it now.

Come

Here

Now.”

You

Extend

Every second with me

Because I know

You want me, too.

But you

Are trying to better yourself,

And so I suffer.

It hurts.

It hurts

In a way

That can be salved.

It can be saved.

It can’t be bandaged.

It can’t be covered up.

You

Are

My

Red wine,

The kind that

Let’s me let go

And makes my shoulders drop

But doesn’t

Leave me with a headache

The next morning.

You’re pure and bright and your tannins

Prove just what tastebuds are searching for.

I flush as I consume you.

I hive as you look

At me and only

Give me

Part

Of

What I want.

You

Are torture incarnate.