How easily you slipped beneath my surface and cracked open all my layers.
Your devilishly wicked tongue dances behind your teeth and all I want is to suck it right out.
My fingers twist in my hair, yanking out to start again. My nails biting into my skin again and again.
There are raw, red scratches up and down my thighs because all I want is to feel your face buried there.
Instead it’s agony without you.
I giggle then groan for you’ve done it again.
Healing beginning in a wound I wasn’t able to bandage on my own (though, oh how I tried!)
How do you do that? Make me ravenous and demure and a vixen all at once?
I’m not sure but I never want you to stop.
Pull me in and tear me apart. Then put me back together.
It’s the least you could do.
tara caribou | ©2020
Read this and more in my poetry book, Four.