Yours in Mine

You’re like a man.
Looking for the lighter with the last remnant of time to live.
And let it burn, the fire that inflames me.
You keep money in the inside pocket of your jacket.
You pull your pants up to sit down where I’ve already been.
You like to hold large cups in the palms of your hands.
Your pores are like those of a man.
They let me in.
And sweat me out.
You like to smoke in front of me.
To show me you can let in something other than myself.
You hide behind the smoke, where I go to get you.
The beard on your face is what you cut everyday for me.
And every night it grows back.
You bite like a man.
The hunger that marks the inside of my thigh.
The veins pulsing the back of your hand go up your arm spreading my sap.
I let you slide through me.
In the morning you’re still inside.
My hand on the back of your neck caresses my sorrow.
The palm of an empty hand on the palm of an open hand.
You use a heavy watch with the relief to see me pass through the door.
You touch my shoulder lightly to mark your presence.
I always know where you are.
You smell like a man.
Dry. Sweet. Hard.
My legs bring you to me.
I like to hold you while you’re still hot.
You use your teeth to say things I don’t want to hear.
You look at me to hurt me.
You expect me to fall to catch me.
You hold my hand to contain myself in you.
You walk in front of me to open up the passage.
When you move, I know where you come from.
I’m not going anywhere.
I live in you.
I like the things I don’t like about you.
I like the things I keep inside me.
You come in looking for things I don’t even know.
I don’t know what I look for in you that makes me want you.
I look at you and know you’re mine.
This is who you are to me.
You’re like me.