Between Bruises & Blooms

At five in the morning,
nothing good
knocks politely.

Desire comes barefoot,

quiet as a sin
trying not to wake the house.

It slips beneath the door,
crawls into my bed,
and whispers your name
against the place
where my pulse
betrays me.

I know better.

God,
I know better.

I know what kind of man
leaves teeth marks
where tenderness
should have been.

I know poison
can taste like honey
when you’re thirsty enough.

Still—

if you appeared
in my doorway now,

all shadow
and wicked intention,

I don’t think
I’d ask
what you came for.

I’d already know.

I’d let the darkness
have its way
with my better judgment.

Let your mouth
turn every warning
into something
I wanted more of.

Let your hands
make a liar
out of every boundary
I swore
I’d learned to keep.

And tomorrow,

when daylight crawled
across the sheets
like evidence,

I’d probably remember
all the reasons
you were dangerous.

But it’s five a.m., darling.

The sun isn’t here
to save me yet.

And neither of us
came here
to be good.