I keep asking you to bruise me with your lips.
…So that when I’m adjusting to the new lights
streaming through my bedroom window, I’ll
remember how bright and red
my skin was when you left it.
And maybe, with that,
I’ll remember the taste of your mouth
after it ran down my neck
and the brush of your tongue
on my inner thigh.
Leave me with the physicality
so I can remember the sound of your voice
and the nebula in your eyes
as you stare hard, wishing you didn’t have to go,
wishing we had more time.
Leave your mark on me so
when it’s 12 am on a Friday and
I’m lost somewhere in the city and
feeling a little sad and lonely…
maybe this time it’ll be enough
to stop me
from climbing into a stranger’s bed
and sneaking out stage left
in the early morning’s rays.
Maybe this time it’ll be enough
to stop me from finding empty pleasure
or from searching for you in other’s eyes.