Big Skin

Drunk with lust and a need
to quench the thirst
welled up from recesses
of the night’s rhythm,
you didn’t consider
a woman with amoral desires;
too foolish to recognize pity,
you felt it necessary to expunge
the guilt of your sexuality.

I entertained no notion of strings
puppeteering a method to an end.
While there’s benevolence in roving hands,
without your need for delusion
I wasted no time
on empathy, schemes or love.

Then the moment:
our bodies wiped clean
of sweat and avarice;
the mask peeled away
from a little boy in big skin
waiting for an invitation
that would never come.