A Rapture

like a cat…
lithe limbed,
long torsoed,
strutting
across my path,
that glance…

and I am caught up
in your scent, musk,
your nails like claws
now digging into skin,
bloody gashes along my back…
fierce bites –
half-moons
rising along my shoulders,
my
breath
in
yours,
backs arching…

screams in alleyways,
bedrooms
boardrooms…

you wrap legs, strut…

ride flesh…taste my milk…

abandon me, once more,
on this street corner,
gasping for the breath
your passing has stolen

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About Martin

I'm just... filling time.
This entry was posted in Creative Writing, Obsession, Poem, poetry, Writing and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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