Posted in poetry

Not Temptation

I’m not temptation, nor a side dish; I’m a fucking delicacy!

I wanna be wrapped up in you, wrapped all around you.

Your little barnacle. I want a taste of your soul, or

whatever it is you carry deep inside. Practice feeling for me.

Feel with me. Make space for it. Start small if you have to.

Inhale with my hand on your back. Sit with the satisfaction

of my touch — the intimacy you usually avoid.

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