a poem
the onus of lusting is
that it will one day end.
love shares the same burden
but chooses to whisper its fears
when night falls, letting the moon
blanket its lover’s bed.
still,
i let your hands
roam my body,
and your eyes
consume my heart.
break me open with
some tenderness, please.
i fear what you may
see when you do,
but i must still ask
for this kindness.
this land of mine has
become so unbecoming
it is a wonder you have
come with so many offerings.
maybe you know
something i don’t,
like if underneath this
parched topsoil there
is something still virile.
i will take what you bring,
knowing that nothing
in life is for free.
