My Weakness.

New poetry.

In your arms, i’m home. Fleshy-coloured whites, and soft-warm yellows. My fingers trapped in a raven web of locks, and limbs are twisted, like broken bodies thrown. Sentences scented of cigarette smoke that choke my heart that beats and bleeds against yours. Gashes, semi-healed in bright, crimson line that dance across your chest. I kiss them, I kiss them all, as they reopen and release onto me. I can feel your lust digging into my back.