By Connor McQueen
Bite, bite into me. Feel my lips swell with blood and
Taste, taste the bitter passion. Let me roll off your tongue
And down your chest through valleys, crevices,
Nooks and crannies.
This passion-wild embrace soothes the tension out of my pores
And I feel like dying but I am still
You keep me breathing by poking holes and then plugging them back up.
My heart is a slave to a temptress I know all too well,
A temptress in black jeans and black leather boots
Whose brain has too much space to be filled.
I sleep with less space in my bed
Than there is space in her head, for thoughts, doubts, love and anxiety.
Her pedal is quite consistently to the metal and I think that is why
I love her.
She goes so fast, so fast sometimes she forgets to look out the window and Enjoy the scenery. Her passion-wild heart is stronger than mine.
It is an unmatchable strength that I only strive for.
She needs only to be reminded once in a while to keep a cool head.
She is mighty; she is sharp, she is one half of a ferocious team.
Pull me in and hold me close,
Feel the light guiding you home.