I don’t want to peel your skin from your bones.
I don’t want to rip you apart.
I don’t want to feast upon your flesh.
No those hormonal teenage feelings have faded.
I’m in the late summer of my feelings for you.
I bask in the desire for a cuddle.
I nestle into the thought of us whispering in the dark as we fall to sleep.
I am warmed by just the thought of your smile in the sunlight.
No, I no longer hunger for you.
And I think at some point I’ll return to the winter.
The winter when my feelings for you were hate.
And I hope to stay there.
Because summer and spring hurt.