Ode to a Young Man

I want to be the object of your heist.
Young man, lean me down upon
the pillowcase, your thickness
straining against my leg, the two
of us glistening and moist in desire.

Your thighs and arms, so tight.
You hoist me further up with your
weight, candlelight tears throwing
themselves against our shadows,
and I look at you so knowingly:

I know what it is to be young,
and pumping your energy into the
wells of my waiting valleys.
Let my noose swell and swallow,
for you are going to the gallows.