Hungry Girl

She teaches her body to ache for him,

move for him,

and dress for him,

reject the familiar banter

and comfort in knowing

he is close.

She banishes familiar kisses

to muster the mystery

that moistens her;

she loves him

but she has each molecule

committed to memory.

This is love, yes

but she must back pedal a bit,

clear the air to feel the ping

in her inner pit

when he comes near-

just like it was,

just like it used to be

before they occupied each others' hearts.

When he was just a body at the bar.

When he was just a dark haired conquest.

When she was just a hungry girl.

Feed me, she says.

Feed me.