“Routine” by Samantha Szumloz
Routine
When the sun closes its eyes,
and the house falls silent
to broken commandments,
I take you out of your box.
Beneath moonlit sheets,
I caress you with lotioned hands
as my imagination draws the man I want
but cannot have.
“Do your magic,” I whisper.
My thumb flicks you on,
and you greet me
with a low buzz.
I drag you up and down
the valleys of my body,
savoring your vibrations as I melt into the bed
like cheese on a fried egg.
My heart, a vessel aching to be filled,
pounds in my ears as you work your magic.
My stomach, a bonfire swarming with moths,
sparks as my temperature climbs.
And as I please myself,
the moon watches me unravel
with glowing, white eyes.
I relish in his curiosity.
At least someone likes what they see.
Photo Credit: Staff