I never healed, my jaw still clicks
out of joint when I want it to,
opens wide like the snake he was.
This dark antecedent a boon
to every body my mouth
has pleasured since:
raped at fifteen,
he broke my mouth getting in.
I never told;
reset my own jaw.
I was someplace I shouldn't have been.
Lately, I've been opening wide for you,
the brush of my lips against your thumb
as it holds your cock at the root
makes us both shudder.
So I tell you, I promised myself
I'd never kneel twice without
explaining, and you say:
"But now, you can do it for your pleasure?"
As if I hadn't groveled for the privilege at your feet,
as if you couldn't smell it,
boiling in me.
I nod, you grin, we walk;
it was never that easy before.
I keep saying that to you.