Habit

Hourglass of spider’s ink upon your lower back. Your love, a kind of love that’s kind of an attack. Smoking skin pressed onto my own in messy overtones of kisses. Stole my love before I could escape. Less like love, more like rape. Introduced me to those words I never used before Drugs paraphernalia kit cut whore **** score more words I never used before Sometimes I get chills. You say, “probably coming down with something.” I say, “Yeah,” “you.”