I miss
I miss
the taste of
lips on lips.
I miss
the hunger in your eyes
and the warmth of your hands.
I miss
the violence of your love,
the way your teeth would sink in,
the way I could hear the growl
in the back of your throat.
I don’t know
how to make sense
of the love you give me,
or how to give it back,
but no matter how hard you hit me,
or how much I bleed,
I promise
I will find a way
to share love with you,
in the language you have taught me.

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.