Bend me backwards into a column of silk strands
Slide your callused fingers between my lips and pull out a ribbon of secrets
The saliva of truth drips down your wary palms
Juice of a fruit, neither of us should consume
I am barely hanging on
You are dangling ornaments of lust off my curled toes
I am lit up
You are decorating my arms with the pointed end of a blade
Shiny and new
Raw and divided
I am barely hanging on
Slide your callused fingers under my eyelids and pull out a ribbon of memoirs
Bend me backwards into a sea of memory foam
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