Your Body

Your body is sin. Breasts cupped by another man’s hands. A cloth covering your bareness with your head tilted down. I remember. Messy hair, searching for last night’s guilt.

My arms hug the table. Our plates, cold. You submit to him while I submit to being disarmed. Like a skinned snake waiting to survive. I could’ve played God, but I played dead.

A search for light. How it shines on impurities. I observe you. The edges of water shielding half of your face. My fractured mind and the unknown. To kiss you or hold you under.

Lies scatter. Desires pulse. How could this be you? An erosion of components. Repatterning habits. Yet the roots remain the same. Another evening with only your sharp scent on an empty chair.