i was wearing a little black dress
when i told you i was trans
your eyes looked so fucking hungry
you said i tasted like cherries
and you wanted my flavor of chaos
you say that i’m a wild thing;
a sweet surprise at two am
but you’re the one who claimed me
with two fingers in my mouth
and your hand upon my throat
when i look at you i remember
the way you climbed on top of me
rode your clit against my cock
and took the orgasm you deserved
without asking for permission
the sheets are tangled and sweaty;
you’re all my tongue can think about
there’s talk of getting old–
“you better have bail money ready–
coz’ I’m gonna be a fucking problem”
i can see you on the picket line
your hair all windswept gray
like the steel in your blue eyes
and every hill you intend to die on
you say that i’m the wild thing