When he calls your name by Zoe Dean

Poetry



The voice on the line
The knock at the door 
Your stomach flips over 
And you choose:
Open it, or don’t 
Slam it in his face 
Or he comes across the threshold
And you see his eyes, the corner of his mouth.
It twitches into the smile he saves for you
And you alone.

The fog clouding your brain:
Is it a hand or a claw that reaches out? 
Drawing him to you, pulling him so closely,
To press the air from his lungs or because the space is intolerable.
Anger, gone.
Hurt, gone.
Resentment, annoyance, humiliation, gone.
Because there is truth in the way his mouth forms around yours,
In his hands that can’t touch everywhere at once,
But will try their damnedest anyway.

When he calls your name
And makes you helpless to your hunger,
Do you feel the heat in your blood
Pulsing through your veins?
Does the fire make you burn brighter
Or turn you to ashes at his feet?

When he calls your name
And you scream his into the night
There is sincerity in the touch 
That tries to erase things
You will remember in a moment’s time 

When he calls your name 
And makes you wish for nothing more
Than the sweet surrender of submission,
The bitter taste of honesty, 
Whether it is love, or starvation
It does not matter.
You taste the words on his lips
And make them yours,
Owning them as completely 
As he might have once owned you.

Zoe Dean is a writer of pseudo-romantic poetry and novels. She is currently based in the United States, and when not making clacking keyboard sounds can be found discussing anything related to motorcycles and the different regions of whiskey.