State Of Grace

Entry by: jaguar

12th August 2016

A hair of yours
fell across the orange fruit
I sort of wanted
to choke on it
find out what happened
if you inadvertently
did me harm.

You plucked it off
oblivious in your
ongoing state of grace
I swallowed anyway,
hid my scraping need.

Until you offered the platter,
juices seeping into my senses,
as you fended it round
so many ordinary
air-wasting people,
while I was disenfranchised
by your rippling lips,
by the way your body
angles in like scrunched foil.

You moved on, left me with
this orange scream,
this itching need,
this unoriginal sin.