Our hunger escalates
into a sweeping riot every night.
You feel no obligation towards anyone
dead or alive
when the ice cubes slide between your Medusa
and my nipples, I raise myself to engulf you
in auburn silk.
All your loved ones have passed on the other side of the world.
Pry it open push it close
so that your freckles blur like ominous signs
in a darkened room of my bones crushing
in an embrace of ruthlessness
not of love.
It’s a matter of understanding
pale as the daybreak that has come
Nicolette Wong is a writer from Hong Kong. Her writing finds its way around the world and she is on the editorial staff of Negative Suck and Dark Chaos. She blogs at http://nicolettew.blogspot.com.