Contingence


I like your crooked teeth.
And how they taunt me.
Bothering and provoking.
Unwinding me slowly.
Sharp and angled precariously like church steeples.
Blasphemous teeth.
And how they subdue me.
A smile that mocks my desire.
One that makes me feel unworthy.
Unmatched and unwanted.
And I fantasize our first kiss
We are one centimeter apart
Spirits connected through heart
A mess of heavy syncopated breaths
The vibrating pulse under the mass of your breasts
Tempting liquid lips
Languid and flowing like liquor above a cup
We are sloppy and missing the curves of the rim
The air becomes a target for every tantric touch
The proximity Thick With Our Invisible Lust
My eyes scale the jagged curves of your frame
Hands feigning and groping and stuttering like staccato
You tremble under my caress with much vibrato.
And you are mine.
Except in reality,
you won't spare me a second of your time.

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