that sweet spot, which collides

with meaning.

Unwrap in me that feeling,

like a Band-Aid being ripped,

a jerk and a snapping.

Tense me up with longing

then unleash the inner inkling

of what pulsates from within.

Control my lucid unmarked skin

to submitting.

I will not make a sound.

Open up my body

by temperate assault

then close in on it with fierceness

-such as only your palms bring.

Don’t spare anything.

What I want? Deliverance.

I’ve been flailing for too long.

It comes as a relief

that you care in this delectable

manner. So what if I should suffer?

It is such a small price paid:

Just like that — keep doing it. Keep

loving me, this fiercely.

When morning comes

I’ll put my clothes on and wince

not from pain but ecstasy

that you would do this thing to me

and still kiss my face all over,

while dawn cracks curtain

and light, which does not judge,

spills on us, relentlessly.