The Truth in Wanting

do you want to?


are you sure?


we don’t have to

no, I want to


Your words tasted of metal,

still coated in the sticky birth

of a mouth taught to please.

You lay flat on your back

seeking tunnels in your mind,

a corner to slip around

with the flourish of a cape,

and left me to make love to a hot-blooded corpse.

I played the prince,

recognized love from a picture in a book,

a likeness ancient and fragmented

seen through stained glass.

I combed your body for its image,

shaking love in its hundred-year sleep,

turned bend after bend following whispered sighs

and found emptiness that echoed in the space

I’d hollowed out for you within me.


It was a game of hide and seek

I wasn’t supposed to win.

You saw my hunger

and served yourself up,

skin crackling from the flames,

clutched the apple between your teeth.

And while you prayed that was enough,

you unzipped yourself from flesh

too often made for meat,

and locked yourself back in the tower,

threw away the key I didn’t know I was searching for.

And after yet another futile hunt,

I ached to scale the walls again,

because princes find love in red lips

and open corsets,

and princesses haven’t

been taught to teach.