What You Feed Me

Up against the headboard,
my hair is fanned out
on your pillow,

my body jiggled
like a vulgar shrine
from your lusts and thrusts,
in and out,
like prostitute
to the clientele.

Feed me your pearl-wine
like it’s your last dose
of Ecstasy

and I giggled
at your frustration
that you were pounding
and I was pulling
you in,
like a seductress
in a state of pout,
while my insides
were then inside-out.