Let the love of god come and get me if it wants me so badly.

[apiphile]

On Making Love

Some girls I know make love like cake;
risen with time and a careful approach
to amounts - warm and soft and sweet
on your tongue. These girls are not for me.

Some girls I've seen make love like the sea;
in tides, passing and returning with the moon,
to sweep you too far out too sudden-slowly,
rolling on your shore. These are not the girls for me.

Some girls I've loved fuck you like murder;
splintering your bones and breaking your heart,
their fists a terminal sanctuary, their mouths
a gateway to a paradisal hell. And I am not for these girls

but I wish like the burn of their fingers
and the ashes of regret their cigarette-burned arms
leave me with -

that I was.