Peach Hands

I bite in,
raw, with fervour,
it dribbles off my lips and through my fingers.
I am unquenchable, insatiable, 
panting, 
my hunger, thirst, ripe as a summer’s peach,
but it’s a summer’s love that begs to me,
sticky on my skin, 
nestled in my neck.

I want a love pure as a newborn
and sinful as the dead.
My teeth on yours,
unable to quell desire. 

With your peach heart
in my peach hands, 
I take a bite.

Tamed I may be, by a summer’s love.