Perception

In that place, I'm more animal than

human. More instinct that rational

thought. The me that walks

in the daylight would never, ever

press her face into the bulge

of your cock in your jeans, lip 

helplessly at the head through 

the thickness of the fabric. Arch

my back like a cat, lift my hips

to present my cunt like a hungry

whore. Writhe and wriggle and strain.

That word is yours, and it ruins

my alliteration. Shift forward 

on the bench, reach for you. Nuzzle

at your stomach. In that place, I can be

all reaction and mindlessness.

Mindfulness. I can lean into you 

and let you lead me. Down the 

rabbit hole. Into the darkness. 

(Memories of Monday. )