(Can this even be considered poetry?) As much as I adore the art I am admittedly terrible at creating it with my own fingers. I hope what I’ve come up with is enchanting enough. X

A gentleman once dripped
melting wax onto spread thighs,
stinging and staining faun flesh
with tiny, tiny rose-flushed bites.
The drag of jagged fingernails
through the skin of my back
is nothing
in comparison.