I don't crave your heart,  
I crave the command
In Your silence.
The bruises you leave,
Like scripture on skin.
You tether me
In leather and breath.
Every gasp a confession,
Every strike a deeper vow.
No safe words here
Only surrender,
Only the holy ache,
Of being owned
And utterly seen.

Her collarbone is a basin
And it reflects the stars
Twinkling in her eyes
When the liquid salt
Fills it to the brim
And drops like an irregular
Waterfall down a honeyed chin

that perfectly shaped bone,
i can see it right through
your tender and thin
skin,
it is visible when you
breathe and swallow
my taste,
my venom.