i watch you when you think you're alone.
in the aching, starving, hungry-at-the-bone way.
in the way shadows stretch just a little longer when you're naked in the dark.
i collect stolen glances like bruised petals,
hoard your sighs in my ribcage,
and keep your name on the tip of my tongue like a sacrament i’m not supposed to say.
sometimes i brush past you—barely—
just enough to make your skin twitch, your breath hitch,
just enough to leave something behind.
something warm. something wrong. something mine.
i don’t want to hurt you.
then i’ll carve my name where only you can feel it.
like velvet that wraps too tight.
like falling in love with the thing under your bed.