Pineapple

I was always drunk on your boyhood and
Writing text messages to myself
To ease the pain of loving you.
The mole on the sweet inside of your
Thigh that I kissed in worship, dark star
I used to guide my way home
To the only place I have ever felt right,
Your cock at the door of my throat.
The only porn that will do is when
He looks like you. It was always
The little things in you that brought
About my death, my heart's dismemberment.
The taste of your spurting pulsing rivers I swam
Through, trying to read those beautiful glistening
Constellations you left on my stomach
For signs that you loved me back.
The gnawing and twisting in my gut,
The need for your flooding of me
And the tearful moans for it never to end.
Tracing the letters on your chest
With my tongue trying to find the
Directions to your soul, the beautiful bending
Of your body over mine a chapel
I had prayed under for guidance
To finally do and say the right thing
That would make you want me forever.
Holding my chin steady with your hand
And jerking your perfect dick in the other,
Anointing my face holy in
Your cum, my tongue desperate at
The corners of my mouth for your
Warm, salty blessing, that time
You and the guys ate cans of pineapple
Stolen from your job at the hotel
And your seed had absorbed it all
And I had never had such sweeter dessert.
And tonight in my cold bed alone, my hunger spiking
For your fingers jabbing deep and hard in me
And the giddy joyful unbuckling I'd do of your belt,
My heart and flesh and thirst crying out
For only the nourishment you could give.