http://www.esquire.com/_mobile/features/the-crack-up-2
Fitz crack in up
There is an enveloped pouch between where fat cradles my vaginal lips and where my adult coat of fur gets silently snipped away.
This place is unsafe but made holy to let occasional love in.
I want to hold you closer to my chest, but my throat fights dirtier, without the fears of cancer or threat of holes for speaking.
Will you let me hold you forever, for as long as we can,
between bosom and breath
where I can feel your whispers leak
softly into my neck.