i would be good for eating

it started innocently enough

a bite of the lower lip

stretched just that touch too far

a nibble on the neck that left a muted firework of blood blisters for the rest of the day

the teeth marks you left in my index finger as i explored your mouth

 

you would be good for eating

it shifted so subtly that we barely noticed

like the gradually decreasing vision of someone who claims he doesn’t need glasses

until he puts on his first set of frames

and can see the edge of things for the first time in years

 

we would be good for eating

then love making became more about pain than pleasure

my skin grew old beneath your fingernails

the bites became harder

the hands became firmer

each night we lay still on the bed

my thin gruel trickling down your leg

my deep red blood in your mouth

 

i was yours for the eating

i stopped going to work when the first digits were clipped off by scalding shears

too many questions

i just lay in bed

covers pulled up tight to ensure no one could see

as i became sliced and stumped

each wound burnt shut

i hoped i tasted as good as i looked

that you would choke on my flesh

 

i wonder which part of me would get stuck between your teeth

which string of gristle would prove most testing to the toothpick

i fell for you and you consumed me.