THE BENCH

Sitting higher, looking down,
perched above, don’t make a sound.
But you don’t look, you only take,
hands so sure—no room to break.

Kisses, messy, warm, and deep,
breath unsteady, stomach weak.
Your hand is firm against my skin,
pulling me close, pulling me in.

God—
you know, you know just what you do,
how easy it is for me to come undone for you.

then you stand.

I’m still sitting higher, looking up now
my eyes upturned, as I yearn,
you tower, certain, sharp and sleek,
all confidence, all burning heat

your hands find mine, then find my thighs,
fingers pressing, tethered tight
no space in between, no room to run,
just your will and I’m undone.

a sudden pull, a sudden press,
and suddenly i’m made a mess
caught in a rhythm, built in reckless steps.