Games End

 

You throw me on

like jeans right from the store,

tags still on

and I manage to rub you raw

to be broken in.

 

I pour out to you

like the seashell call

on your perfume

and the mist-like spray you inhale

grips you like my rising tides.

 

But you tell yourself

that you’ve reigned this musky horse

with your bare-back thighs,

and that my siren whispers

are the words to my weakness.

 

The dipping of the sun

sings lightly over our heads

like a hornets nest.

I sigh something to you about love

and feel you tense momentarily

then loosen,

the snare of your conquest

becoming your home.