by Milena Bee
at the peak of
abandon, nine lives left
all alone. in decay.
in danger of losing.
to be thirsting beneath you, the lethal
regality of coming undone
to belong alongside your throat.
no apology for the blood on your lips.
no apology for the way love escapes you
to settle in me.
slender grasp upon corded muscle, upon a stretch towards the light. can’t wait
to rip my own throat out
under your touch is a divine pleasure
fit only for us, in tandem momentum