My tongue on the table ( After Chandler)

My tongue on the table, yours held

Mine was bad and learned to slither down the neck and over the back and around to softness and need, I learned to fuck like a life depended on it. Secrets of your desire tucked inside me. The deeper you wanted to bury it the deeper I wanted to take you in.

Yours was truly, then it was Taking on the take while you dragged your self up the tower, while the bower became wraith and wound around until light was shut out. Me, like the bird on a path inching forward. You like the man who can’t find his way out.

Your own light blind at the top of the stair.