The traveller has my rabbit skin
Velvet smooth
desire widens
sinks deep
in the gape
Craving
my indifferent fingertips
seek
the back of my neck
I shouldn’t explore this luscious terrain
on a slow Sunday afternoon
sitting alone in an empty cafe
Am I seen
as I run my fingers across
my wrists
begging loudly
for a tender grazing of teeth
so much of me
untouched for years
I have let things go
fleshfull
yet unfulfilled
by the ravishing
the knowing
of my rabbit skin
mouth and thighs
open and swell
honey pools
waiting for a precious
sucking
stamen beating
with the flick and flutter
a passing hummingbird
wants
only one taste
he did not want more
Pelted
I am left behind
cold
and wanting
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