Our sexual desire trumps all. We love with open mouths and open limbs. The way your tongue knew my body. The way you could make me shiver like no other. I got dizzy when your breath tunneled through my ear, like incense in my nose. I was always left wanting more, searching for it, yearning for more. You, inside me, but no where to be found. Love me not because I fit in the coffin you bought her. Sometimes I taste splinters on my tongue from the hole she tore through with her fist. Your pulse became my metronome. Love me not because I fit in your hands, I don’t, never did. And never will. You didn’t like the feeling of something slipping between your fingers.