I like your skin –

Like a piece of sin

I cannot devour;

Like another piece of meat

I must forego.

Your neck

Is far more savoury

Than that of any other beast.

I like how it is darker –

In the shadows,

Like my thoughts must be –


By waves of your ocean-blue coat.

Like the slope of a mountain

The sun hasn’t kissed yet,

Like a slope this sun shall not kiss.

It is almost a sin:

A sin that might sentence a burning sun

To the depths of a scalding hell.


Suns only burn for mountains.

I like the fleshy dots on your neck –

Like shards of grass.

The time we slept on the courtyard

And watched the clouds go by,

As you let me in to your beautiful thoughts

And the sapiosexual in me awakened –

Remember, then

You thought I was going to hold your hand

And so you opened your palm like a flower, into mine?

I wouldn’t.

Like the sun god, I have my rules.

I was only making you an offering of broken grass.

I had torn them off the earth for they felt so good.

I wouldn’t do that to you.


It would be amazing to reach out

And leave that neck sun-kissed.

I would,

If the person beneath

Was less important.


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