I didn’t ask for your
insecurities
Or your hands
To venerate me.
Shut up
Hold back that
writhing worm
you cage
behind your teeth
Any closer
And I’d bite it off.
Then, watch
scarlet bloom
in the cavity
And melt into
the cracks of those
broken lips
But I didn’t.
I allowed flattery
To stream out instead.
“Goddess,” one night
you hiss and I think of
flab folding in furrows
cotton candy complexions
Stretched out on the
canvases of old masters.
you may evoke
Venus, nymph,
odalisque,
or any other excuse
in sophisticated guise.
Your diction was crass,
Sycophantic.
So was your
technique.
I am not your altarpiece