I want more

The air smells of sandalwood
and fills my nose
with bouquets upon bouquets
of an old burning desire
littering the scenery
of my blurring heart
and I cannot help but force
these lonely fingers
into speaking for a tongue
no longer dedicating itself
to kissing a man
who cannot (will not)
love

I am hungry for more
than just food,
my mouth craves sweetness
a certain kind of ridiculous fruit
to feed these cherry lips
that taste nothing like seeds,
but grows into something
more substantial
than any producing tree

I want to exist as myself
in the exploration
of my newly found entity
while attracting men
who bear their souls
like a woman bears child
blissfully, revealing,
and open for conversation
about honesty and virtue
with a bluntness
that scrapes substance from skin
and filters sin from dirty rivers
without any clocks chiming
at the perfect moment of ruin