Taste

As he tastes my skin
Early in the morning
I wonder what it is he finds
Upon his wandering tongue

Is it the spice of passion?
The bitterness of loneliness?
Or the sticky sweet honey of love?
Am I cinnamon and clove?
Earth after it has rained?
Salty tears of heartache?

I imagine I’m not without flavor
As he keeps coming back for more
Devouring me like a starving man
What is it he desires that I fulfill?

Perhaps it’s nothing more than
Adequate gratification
Filled and sated

8 thoughts on “Taste

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