You drip into my open mouth,
one slow drip at a
time,
less nectar than honey
I steal from the birds and bees
in the dark of night.
You drip into my open mouth
until I am
inebriated,
less sweet than
potent,
a potion that makes me ache,
still, I ache for more.
You drip into me,
over me,
like hot wax that
scalds
at first touch,
then turns tender as it cools,
the scent of leaves
and trees
stirred up, a taste in me.
You drip onto my eyes
until I am blind,
leaving me to rely on
touch
I touch you,
feeling you in a whole new way,
the curves of flesh,
the moist places,
the rough places,
the place I need to
go.
You drip onto me,
a Chinese torture
that drives me insane,
and I don’t mind.
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