Wednesday, January 15, 2014
He puts his mouth on me even if
it means ruin. He says we can't
do it in his house or bed, his wife
will know, then shoves my hand

inside his pants. We are more 
than a mind fuck, a one-off

mistake. He says you make me
want to put a bullet through 
my skull, why don't you take me
to the nearest service station

selling ammo at this hour, can’t
leave you so better for us to

go together. Is he merely being 
dramatic when a vodka flask

pokes out of that vintage jacket
his father finally passed on

to him while he jams my thumb
into the corner of his mouth,

rubbing my fleshy pad over
his teeth as he starts sucking 

without asking. Some people
get a tattoo on impulse to show 

the world they mean it, how love is
worth the pain, people who know
nothing about being taken apart
by this: how I only want his mouth

to finish off what we started— 


Wednesday, January 15, 2014