FOR THE GROWN AND NASTY

not gentle anymore

it’s urgent,

demanding to be felt.

And so am I.

Body tense beneath these cool sheets,

every inch of me awake,

alive in a way that has nothing to do with sleep

and everything to do with need.

Breath catches,

slow at first

then deeper, heavier,

like I’m trying to steady something

that refuses to be calmed.

The storm outside builds,

and I swear it’s inside me too

that same pressure,

that same ache,

that same unbearable anticipation

stretching every inch

My mind drifts where it wants,

no restraint, no filter,

just heat and thought and feeling

blending into something

One can’t ignore anymore.

Rain against the glass,

pulse in my veins,

tension coiling tighter

until even the air feels thick,

Heavy,

ready to break.

Morning hasn’t even fully arrived,

but I’m already consumed by it

this restless, aching hunger,

this electric pull in my body,

this quiet, burning want

that refuses to wait.

And the rain

it just keeps falling,

like it knows exactly