What I wouldn’t give to master the art of his native curve,
Experience the dip of his torso as it intertwines into the deeper mysteries
That he holds veiled under faded jeans. He is but all mine, yet does he know?
He was a radiant creature, half clothed,
And I ate of him.
To taste him was bitter sweet.
But I liked it, because his was bitter,
And because he devoured my heart
Tamuriel L. Dillard