let me consume you wrong.
let me mistake hunger for love
and call it connection
because i need a name for this shaking.
my mouth wants proof.
not poetry, not patience.
proof that something warm
can still reach me.
i don’t want to be held.
i want to be undone,
split open where i keep insisting
distance doesn’t hurt.
i want you inside me
in a way that leaves a record.
fingerprints on the walls,
evidence i wasn’t imagining it.
i want to ache afterward
and sit with the damage,
thinking quietly,
at least something got through.
my body keeps embarrassing me,
wanting louder than dignity allows.
i pace the room,
forget how to behave,
return to the thought of you
like it owes me something.
let me beg without words.
let me press my face
into whatever warmth you offer
and stay there too long.
i don’t care if it ruins me.
i don’t care what it teaches me.
i just want to be wanted
enough to leave a taste.
i’ve been good for too long.
i’ve been starving politely,
calling it patience,
calling it control,
calling it anything but need.
put something real in front of me.
let me consume it wrong.