The Rib Of Adam

I bend

not because I break,

but because I know

you’ll come undone

when I do.

I hold the silence

like silk between my teeth,

smoothing your ache

without asking

what caused it.

I’ll let you win.

Let your ego

unzip the riddle,

that you speak in Morse Code

while I stitch your pride

into a suit that fits.

You unravel.

I breathe.

And drag it in slow

like smoke through parted lips.

A bong hit,

holding it

long enough

to taste where it came from.

I dim my own light,

just so you don’t see

how much I shine

without you.

But such grace

clings to the scar on your hip.

So be worth the ache,

When you crave the soft

arch of my back.