I want to touch you.
Graze your naked porcelain skin,
with my rough hands.
But that's against the rules, playing with the prey.
I want to trace your protruding bones
and feed you scraps of meat.
Yet the child in your eyes
is begging to be put down.
But I am only then zookeeper,
not the hunter.
Watching over you
until the monster emerges
with chew toys and chains,
guilty pleasures dripping from his jaw.
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