MY HUNGER IS A SIN BUT IN THE MOMENT OF CONSUMPTION I AM NESTLED NEXT TO GOD

Gnawing on the stone fruit that at my mercy, 

resides firmly gripped in my palm, 

I am overwhelmed with a perverse satiation 

unlike anything 

but the one thing I cannot possess. 

It is a substitute lacking in the placating taste 

but proving its worth through its cloying, tender texture, 

this peach shall honor the imitation 

of the flesh 

lining your lurid bones. 

Its fuzzy outer layer is a fine enough replacement 

for the contentment I’d find 

in taking a bite out of your upper lip. 

However, soon enough, this honey wrapped in velvet will be unable to satisfy me, 

and I, salivating and starving for you, my love, 

will reach out, 

take your wrist in my hand, 

and consume your being whole. 

Because my gluttony is only tamed momentarily by conventional nutrition. 

Never will I be fully fed until I am able to savour every inch of you. 

Not until my tongue meets the stinging passion 

of the blood that runs through your veins, 

Not until my teeth meet the dogged strength 

of the muscle that lay in between your 

brash skeleton and your contrasting pliant skin, 

not until then, will my stomach be sated, 

and my cravings be assuaged.

by battooth