perhaps arsenic will give me a skin
we don’t dress this up.
your wrist is in my hand jumping a trapped thing.
i hold it until it slows.
you are warm. that’s the first fact.
the second i want the warmth inside my mouth so it can’t leave.
i put my teeth at your shoulder just enough to feel you tense.
no apology.
salt already there. you taste like work, like heat.
we keep breathing into each other like we’re sharing the same lungs because for a second we almost are.
your heart hits harder when i stay there
not breaking skin, just pressure, just the threat of it.
it’s ugly how much i like that.
hands on bone. mouth at throat.
if i could take you in whole i would
not to hurt you.
just so your heat wouldn’t belong to the air anymore.
when we pull apart you’re still standing.
i’m the one changed
tongue still tasting that almost-iron that never quite became blood.