I could take my inhibitions,
push them under my tongue as hard, sweet candy.
I could feel the lump of my morals crack and melt across my lips,
glide down my throat as a prayer.
I could close my eyes and let my lashes be a thousand little hands,
soft against my cheek.
I could see you as an intermittent shadow
blinking through the luminescence behind my lids.
I could pull the sheet from my bed and let it drape bare across me,
a whisper of your weight.
I could stencil in your hands on the canvas of my skin,
at my throat, my thigh, the soft inside of my hip.
I could pull myself from this little comfort zone I’ve made
and fall sodden to my knees before you.
© Laura A. Lord, 2020