Like The First Night

A touch of sprinkles on
your birthday cupcake, one
candle (twenty would never fit).

The lights out in the living room
a kiss to feel the moon's cool
blue. We're living in a den
of thieves, always kissing for self,
color, and pleasure.

The back bisected
by a strap. The waist displaced
by red silk and lace.

You want to believe that
there is honor among thieves, but
the way we crash through doors at
night, stealing our bodies from
the light; that melting red and blue

the violet hue, well,

it's contagious. So
contagious,

like your smooth hands rummaging through
my dresser with the lights off.

Looking for a bedtime story that isn't about you.