we roam around each other as collective entities packs of wolves finding the other through scent. the forest for the trees, you sit tall. look at me. slightly cock your head to the right. howl at the moon: your eyes guided in time, all of the rising tides. when your eyes fall away, the water only lightly grazes the sand— like the tips of your fingers against my face, when there are no phrases, just the scent and night.
how desire feels like hunger, how assuaging desire is feeding, how i give myself pieces of passion to digest slowly, how i cannot ingest it all without becoming sick, into something that is too much but isn’t prey, tell how i could— consume your skin with my skin, my skin a mouth to eat your skin. our skin—mouths resting together in lip-lock. your eyes green dimmed behind glass, the green grass, the forest tops.
marks left and not left visibly, i find the spots, those are the spots we go. we circle, claim, circle, and the stakes. we are at each other’s throats. i find you. i know you, so solemn. disheartened, so confused in your compromising the most troubled bit of your herd with the hunger of the pack. let—
do not concede doubting thomas. all of i wish to be nothing less than yours.