Because these handcuffs hurt too much...

I sink into her
and she bares her teeth.
She snarls a beautiful snarl,
nose scrunched, gums pink with
rage’s instinct.

The ivory whites, crown of her pure face,
sink into my soul – this is her

idea of rough sex and somewhere
between my bleeding ethereal being
and her lust for my soul, this love
is recognized as more pristine than
peaceful green-blue fields
and grows faster and healthier than weeds
in perfect soil.

I am become growth.
I am face-to-sky praying for longevity.

This is her idea of rough sex.
Our love is a cannibalism of the bleeding souls
that come together like water and oil on harsh pavement
to make all the beautiful colours of our life’s toil.