The Absence of Wavelength

Virginity Is A Whole-some Muffin

Hot Mess (I cannot abide if my beauty lost)

Release, my sweet, moist muffin!
I prompt, as I pry
but do not know why
innocence will not taste the same,
if your blueberry-stuffed sin can’t sustain.
A thick, birthing batter bubbled,
moaning and arriving in that oven —
risen, you’re baked to perfection.

You will be my confection!

And, the longer I pry,
should you crumble, I’ll cry;
because I want to be the one
to pull you apart —
inside out — and reveal
a hot mess hiding,
breathing in your golden flesh.


6.8.25
16, 18 lines of vers libre

Snarf!

In one bite, Brian?

mmph, mmph!

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