The Hunger of My Love

Run your hand from the warmth of my belly up to my throat,

learn the rhythm that keeps me near you.

Trace the hollow where my breath begins,

feel the pulse that says your name.

The drum that insists I am yours.

Lay your fingers along my ribs —

linger where my heart folds open.

Press until the line between us softens,

until my love spills into your palms.

Not to wound but to reveal the soft I offer.

Open your mouth like a prayer; let want shape the air,

lean in with teeth that know only my name.

Open like a gift you were born to hold;

let your canines be the keys of worship.

Bend close and let your hunger be gentle,

taste the vow I place on your tongue.

Eat me as if making me home,

tongue and teeth weaving me into you,

marrow melting like a candle into wax,

my bones folding into the hollow you were born with.

Consume me as if reading a letter,

read every bone, keep every page.

Take my marrow, keep my slow light,

make my memory part of your blood.

Devour me slowly, learn the maps I hid,

turn my grief into the warmth that lives in you.

When you swallow me, let it be a vow;

part of me lives inside you now, forever.

And bury what remains inside your quiet —

there, I will be whole and yours.