In the End.

A Poem.

in the end,
sex isn’t the kink,
not the edge
not the size
not the shape of anything.

it’s the trust.
the way you hand me your unguarded self
like the gift it is
and I show you my scars.

and when we do,
I kiss you to the ground,
spread your soul wide,
and devour the part
you swore no one would touch.

dc.