On Nights Like These

 

On nights like these
I need more than
your kind regards.

I need your hand around my throat
dusty fingers in my mouth
and the precipice of pain
as your cock forces space
where there was none.

On nights like these
I’ll trade
your mot juste

For the cudgel of your tongue,
the cruelty of your clutches,
and the icy sting of the things you
keep sharp and secret.

On nights like these
not the comfort of
your enfolding arms

But the hard white imperative
of your teeth in my flesh,
the finality of your weight on my back
and the kiss you forgot to withhold.

 

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