Look at you, Looking at me

My name isn't a grunt to be followed by strange whistles

hissing with lust, powered by fleshy thrusts.

I am not the fruit of a loom,

I am the bastard of a midnight sheet sprawl.

If you have to be conceived in love, to love-

then I am a bee hive exploding with vinegar.

This honey of mine was tainted long ago.

And it drips down the hands of those

"eager" enough to be swayed by the minute long

sugary taste of my bottom lip.

Don't you think I grow weary of keeping hearts in jars?

unlabeled,

simply because they all beat the same.

Sure, he was wounded,

Just a baby fallen from a healthy nest.

Of course I jaded him,

it was the taste of my organic sin

that melted him into a puddle

and reduced him to a simmer,

flipped him once,

and burnt his side.

but he loves me so much,

He'd take off his own sweater

and lay it at my feet

so I wouldn't soak my shoe

in his egg yoke existence.

And sure, I'm a terrible person.

I never fell,

I was stolen from my healthy home.

and hand fed mens hearts

until I grew wild-eyed,

God help you now,

Looking at me,

I am hungry for revenge.