365 Poems/105 Smitten (Rough First Draft)

Smitten

I’m smitten with everything,

even your bones.

If I had to choose my favourite,

I would have to go for

the one that makes up your right hip,

the one that nudges me awake

in the morning.

 

When you look at me,

over the top of the black

smoke pouring from the grill,

you arouse me to the point

where I want to open my jaws

and howl some sort

of strange, beautiful song.

 

The kisses are never long enough,

and though your hands are

as cold as lost snow,

I want them everywhere,

making my breath sharp

and quick, as if there’s ice

growing at the back of my throat.

 

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