Trust

Please,

fuck me poem!

Ah,

flipped first verse

of liquid metaphors

in the velveteen

of my skin,

be gentle and firm

when crashing

second verse

of all symbology,

two does better than one

into

me

I'm nailing you across

lines of your third

envoy,

leaving marks on your soil,

you don't gotta worry,

I always find my way

back

to you,

morph

from adagio

to a crescendo,

make me (your) arching mistress,

the maestro of (your) rhythm,

I conduct a whole orchestra

screaming from the feet of

(your) letters

to the phrases of

(your) lips,

you uh mmhmm and huh huh me,

as if you were the author

and not the character.

I'll be the author,

you'll be the character,

I'll be the character,

you'll be the author.

And that's how

poetry is made.