Bone Book

Erotic Poetry

I am a book written in my bones.

If you crack them open, you can taste the story of my double-helixed soul.

But only when you extract my marrow with your tongue,

Slurping it all onto your palette,

Rolling it over in your mouth,

Letting to slide down your throat,

Rather than merely waiting

For it to drip out

And splatter into a bowl.

You have to


Deep inside

To get at the most nectarous parts,

The parts that ooze ambrosial mystery.

Push yourself into me,

And consume the stories branded inside my bones.




2 thoughts on “Bone Book

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