and my curves

i am a flight risk, never content
with routine and comfortable silence.
i want your teeth down the back
of my neck, marking up my skin
like a back road map i am
desperate to get lost inside.
you make me fiend for the chase,
the back-and-forth between
my tongue and every curve.
you make it so difficult to be good,
to make an honest living out of
gritting my teeth on your memory -
the way i want to peel every freckle
off of your body just to get to know
you deeper.