That Type of Love

That type of love,
marked black across the lines
of my skin rubbed raw
at the wrists and beating
painfully at the edge of my heart
as I lean forward
to fall.
I need to feel your skin on mine,
the crush of your fingers
in my hair, the tilt of my head
falling backwards
as I let go, allowing you
to be my only support
keeping me aloft with
the pull of those buttons,
the tear of my skin beneath
your teeth, my breath caught
in a ragged gasp fumbling
at the corners of my lips,
your name the last echo
before I allow myself
the gratification of
the end.