it will come back

you know better

than to meet me in silence-

the kind of silence that

breathes, that begs; 

you know better

than to touch this flame

like it won't burn straight

through the bone

i've told you before-

i am not a man you kiss;

i am a thing you summon;

you call me with that smile,

with laugh like incense curling

in a chapel of skin,

and i arrive-

starved, radiant,

devoted

don't kneel to me if you

plan to leave;

don't call me your god

if you're still learning how to pray

let me rot in the wilderness

where i belong;

let me bury myself in ash

before you ask me to be gentle

but here you are

and here i am-

a beast in a lover's clothing,

a priest at the altar of your hips,

repeating the only rite

i remember-

touch, taste,

ruin, repeat

you should have never let me

learn the map of your body;

i know your neck like a psalm;

i know the little gasp you make

when i move lower-

god, that sound could end me

my hands should be bound

my mouth should be sewn shut

but you unthreaded me

and offered yourself

like fruits on a sacred plate

now look at what we've become

the sacrament and the hunger,

the worshipper and the blade

you sleep

and i kneel beside you-

a devotee who's seen

god in a storm;

i press my lips to your skin

just to say thank you,

just to say more

but darling-

don't give me mercy,

don't give me softness,

i will eat it alive

and when the night moans

through the windows,

when the wind itself is panting,

you will hear it-

not the storm,

not the devil,

but me-

it will come back

howling

for you

again