Chirality

There are two sides of me and I find it fascinating how far apart on the spectrum they are.  You’re responsible for one of them, the world is responsible for the other.  I’ve indulged in both and fed them until they’ve grown into separate entities.

They’re ravenous.
They both hibernate.
There is little that can stop them when the scale is tipped in their favor.

Despite the appearance of one, they are both extremely passionate.  One shows it in a traditional way, while the other in symptoms.

I want your skin in my teeth.  My fingers should puncture the still plains of your skin and press a white knuckled intensity into them.  You should feel how I want you in the palms of my hand as I grip every fleshy part of you to take as my own.
Fuck you taste good.  Just a little bite?
The indentations of my teeth along your shoulder won’t fade as quickly as the moments of lust I drive into you.  That little stare you gave made my eyes squint.  The brush of your hair behind your ear caused my teeth to grit.  The side glance and head tilt was the on switch.  The rest belonged to me onto you.  So Mr. Hyde feasted.

The other side is not subtle, if Mr Hyde can be considered it.  Where Hyde uses his teeth Jekyll uses his mind to fuck the submission away from the dominant.  It all leads to an explosion of want and greed without gratification.  A turn of keys and cogs to push everything in me further and further to the pinnacle.
Ask of me what you want and it will be done.  Push the limits of every listed limit.  Find limits that were hidden and break them.  I’ll worship your steps and burst with praise.  I am yours, always.  So Dr Jekyll indulged.

When one is awake the other’s asleep.  They do not cross and they do not meet.
One up high and the other down low.  One side tells and the other side shows.

Heart shaped

The little space between your legs

when they’re pressed together.

Light shines through

as does the lust,

my minds in a tether.

It’s a view of me and you

and your body contorted.

Bent in half at hunger’s wrath

feasting until morning.

That heart-shaped space

with thighs closed tight

pulling at my strings.

Ripped and torn

pouring sounds of want

and any craving that it brings.