Rose Astarte

You want to taste
But thirst like yours is meant to linger
This is not for sipping
This is for kneeling, watching, learning to crave in

"You don’t get to touch.
But you do get to listen.
To the way my fingers move slowly over my soles,
to the slick sound of cream on soft

He paid for the polish
He doesn’t get the skin
He doesn’t get the warmth
He only gets the ache

🖤
You can stare, if you paid
Touching is

My toes are painted.
His head is bowed.

One of you paid for the polish.
Another would beg just to kiss the bottle.

No words. No sounds.