I don’t often run into people I’d like to kiss.
My mouth is a terribly stingy thing,
the way she wants to fall in love
the way she wants to lock lips
only if it means
I thought about auctioning off my heart,
giving her to a more accepting body.
I thought about running to the forest,
to stop worrying that I was incapable
of letting go
and letting in,
to grow evergreen and stop fretting.
But then you,
you appear all sunken chest and full moon lipped.
You turn me back into something primal,
I’m on all fours
dripping strawberry juice
all over my white button up,
why don’t you come and see?
Come taste me.