попутчик ~ {i}

iii.
 
we lay spine to chest  
in a bath tub full of bones,
sucking the marrow  
from yesterday,
so starved for memories
nestled in gristle  
to tide us over  
while we fast & repent,
replete for the space  
of an exhale  
 
ii.
i hoard the gore  
on my sheets,
a fuck stained rorschach  
wrung from  
the carnal hinges
of our sinew ...  
the remnants of  
what we've washed  
from our pores  
is seeped into  
slate hued fibres,  
into the altar
of our perversions  
 
i.
in that baptismal font
of honey & almond oil,
your fingertips prayed
against the swell  
of my hips;  
your mouth touched  
its sin to my nape.  
your tenderness
was unforgivable.