2 am whispers under the sheets
body slick and tense and fighting and…
well… i’ve lost.

not only does he make me forget my name, 
he makes me forget that i should care.
my eyes swirling and hazy, a small hurricane
he wants to dive into. 

the thing is i let him. 
ty skin burns almost as if to try
remind me of the pain levied there.
words still stamped deeply into my muscles,
hollow echos of crushing boots in my bones.

but his lips on my ear: “baby fuck me.”
just like that.
and suddenly…
fuck say that again. 

honey painted 
i don’t bother unpacking 
the subtext or the tingling 
reminder of pain. i just
want.