Mosquito Bites

mosquito bites —

what a nickname for my tits.

your biting words

pierce the body first

always hungry for more,

your glinting eyes

search my pores.

pesky mosquito bites —

it’s an itch that just won’t quit.

i press x’s into the risen skin

with clipped fingernails

not really sure if it helps,

maybe this is the placebo effect of folklore

or simple childhood memories.

mosquito bites —

you hunt for blood,

teeth sinks into flesh

you suck me dry,

always wanting more

i scratch the raw skin,

you flurry away

and then it’s red bumps galore.

it’s my fault really,

a naked chest is of course wanton

asking for it,

without protection,

it’s begging for a sting.

i am barely a woman

but bare skin apparently

emits agelessness, after all.

mosquitoes, you don’t discriminate —

you revel in devouring my body,

drink me in until you are full, fat, and fed

then vanish while I am left lacking blood cells.

but I am certainly glad you ate well.

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Edited by: Ava Emilione