Peace on the couch is sprawling against soft cushions
like this pose isn’t stomach-churning uncomfortable.
My breasts are bound for lust against your strong neck and eyes
that pierce through the bravado I’m braving.

Your hands when they find my skin find me sweating
not from exertion but anticipation for what you’ll take.
My open legs are for you to press between,
for you to force apart with how my display makes you enraged.