I fantasize. Slipping my tongue between her thoughts,
And with strong hands, massaging her humor into a soft mound of flesh that
I can squeeze in the center of my imaginary palm.
I need to reflect the harshness of her gaze in my own movements,
Coiling tight around her muscles, both of us holding our breath,
Unsure of how we each define “mercy.”
I need to taste her troubles. I dream of stripping her ripened fears, with each lick.
I want every part of her in my mouth. And I am unashamed.