A taste of rubyfruit

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Oh Rita Mae,
Your words draw me
Into the warmth
Of your bed,
Where painted fingernails
Graze the curve of my hip,
Making me feel loved.
I long to taste
Your forbidden fruit,
To become one
Of your world.

My tongue slides
Across your smooth skin,
Curling into a question mark,
To find answers
In the folds
Of your pages.

I close my eyes,
Wrapping my legs
Around your thoughts,
To float in a dream of possibilities,
Drifting higher as I cast off the weight
Of unwanted labels.

Again your words caress my lips:
“It is not a choice,
It is who I am.”

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