sometimes
I remember
the strong and
strange beauty
of your wrists
always sunburnt,
always beautiful
and the memory
finds me clenching
my teeth to fight
the waves of desire
that overwhelm me
how can a man have
wrists so beautiful?
I love their
shape
and width and
shades and hollows
I even love how
your watch sits
strange, the pictures
that stay in my mind
the sun-kissed scent
and silky solidness
hard-softness and
soft-hardness
all yours, all mine
I keep wanting to
sink my teeth in
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