Mike

I carried an ashtray for you.
White chocolate melting in the sun
smeared on your shoe, washed off in the rain.

We rode a spaceship for hours into the night
with your hands on my back
and your nails in my heart.

You remembered my name
and recited numbers like prayers,
your vehement offerings to this wanton virgin.

So many girls were dripping for your touch.
I had it. I had it on display.
I became a whore to be sneered at.

Picking easy, picking me
you found another member for your assembly line,
licking and dying just for you.

Your seduction by design lured me to you,
a master of creation, isolated
in your cells of lies and disguise.

"Tell me what it is you want
and I will make it appear."
I choked on your fire.

The lusting flames licking down my throat
deeper, further into my core
drained, emptied by my own desire to be seen.