it's not weird
i relish your residue sink my face in forgotten fabrics lean ever lower for your toots i slide my tongue in pits unguarded treat myself to your tannins grovel for your growls i am a mental museum for the shape of your hands and a banquet of the ways you call out "baby" i am the imprint of your soft and the beneficiary of your hard someday i can't wait to marry you and someday when the mood moods right i can't wait to call you daddy while i man the hose