I want your mouth around my nipple,
the pierced one - yes, right there.
Bite me, don't tease me.
I want your tongue on my scars,
I want them wet again.
They are deadened nerve and I can hardly feel
you, anyway; you're always there when I choose.
I want your touch, unmistakably you -
I never felt a kiss this smooth
this consistently cold. You left me scarred
and I think of your touch often,
I have never needed something more.
I keep you encased in white boxes,
in silver cages.
I will not let you take over me,
but there you are - again and again;
I cannot forget you,
and I sometimes entertain the thought, should I?
Would I let you out?