Morning.

You should press your lips on mine like you want to devour me.
Twist your hands viciously
in my hair and
tell me I'm pretty
In your tobacco kissed voice.
Press your hip bones into me
While my tongue
Leaves fire trails
Down your neck.
You know my darkness.
You don't seem to mind that I
walk the grey
That I can't say no to trouble.
I don't want to be undressed carefully,
I want to be torn into
Like an early morning Christmas present
But first,
take a moment to admire
The wrapping paper.
Trace your fingertips
Over the lace and straps,
Aware of
The gift I'm giving you.
My hands are grabbing yours,
I'll show you where I keep my secrets.
I need you to crash into me,
Fuck me with the intensity
Of a dying man
Seeking god.
I'm no longer asking,
I'm demanding.
Break me
Build me up
And break me again
My body may be a temple
But yours is that of a god,
And I'll
Look you in the eye
when I'm crying out
Your name.
When we're done,
And you're curled up next to me
And our eyes close in sleep,
Know
round two starts in the morning.