Painting With Numbers

You bound me with guitar strings
Fed me whispers laced in inches
Wrapped in knees around my throat

You bent me with promises
Served up milky-sweet and hot
A sticky wet chaser

I met you with pleasure
Harsh and toe pointed
Begging for a flat backed scream

I held you here with graphite
Supple phrases clad in leather
Images cat-arched into your hand

You and I converge here in
A sultry taste of missing fig leaves
Odds and evens melting into a static “we”